Pesky Muggles
by H.L.B
Summary: ALL DONE (reloaded17-21)! A muggle accidentally walks thru the 9 3/4 barrier and into a world of trouble; AND THAT\'S BEFORE THINGS GET INTERESTING. PG for violence in later chapters. THREE CHEERS for my Beta Reader: HIP HIP..., HIP HIP..., HIP HIP...!
1. Default Chapter

PESKY MUGGLES INTRODUCTION: 

I was thinking, one day, about the strange parade of witches and wizards who make their way through King's Cross Station every September first. They say that muggles try very hard NOT to notice things that are out of the ordinary... especially magic. But what if one did? What if a muggle did notice what was going on? What if she was able to penetrate the barrier to Platform 9 3/4? I began writing what I thought would be a short story to answer that question. But as it went along it stopped being a short story as I asked myself the same questions the character of Dumbledore and others ask: Why? Why would this muggle be able penetrate the barrier? Why now? Read and find out.

(Of course, to answer the first questions I wound up creating a "Mary Sue" character. I'd like to get one question out of the way: Isabel is not me. I wouldn't mind if she was, because I admire her courage but, alas, she and I are not the same.)

CHAPTER ONE: Isabel 

Isabel was early, far earlier than she had intended to be. Strangely, nothing took as long this morning as it usually did. This was odd because most times when she had to be somewhere (like, say, an airport or train station) at a particular time everything took _longer_. Yet, here she was at King's Cross Station, checked in, checked out, fed, watered, and not even in need of the loo. She had a good half-hour to 45 minutes until her train to Edinburgh even started boarding, let alone departed.

There seemed to be a regrettable shortage of available benches on Platform 9 so Isabel dropped her duffle bag down beside a column and sat on it. It let out a "oofh" of air and was a bit lumpy, but was not too bad. Isabel settled herself and dug around in her rucksack for the paperback she had packed and settled down to read while she waited for the 11:30 to Edinburgh to at least pull into the platform so she could get on.

She had chosen this particular book because it was a favorite. She never failed to enjoy it no matter how many times she read it. It was ironic, therefore, that the very familiarity of the book left her feeling restless and bored. But still, she didn't really feel like getting up and doing anything else.

Perhaps she was just overtired, she thought to herself. She had spent the summer working what amounted to two and a half jobs in order to save enough money to take this term from University off and travel around Britain and Europe. She enjoyed learning but had become increasingly dissatisfied with the direction in which her education was taking her. Still, she wasn't having much luck choosing a more satisfactory direction. Thus, she had decided to skip a term to do some thinking. University would still be there when she came back... if, by then, she still cared.

Isabel was just considering getting up and going to find something to drink when she noticed that traffic around her platform had picked up. If this many people were going to Edinburgh, finding a decent seat on the train might be a problem. Perhaps she should just stay put and try to be among the first to board.

Resigned, she tried to pay attention to her book but found herself continually looking up from the book then having to re-read whole paragraphs and pages because she hadn't really noticed what she was reading and had lost her place. With a sigh she put the book down and let her gaze travel toward the rest of the station. In doing so she noticed something odd. Although crowds of people continued to approach her platform, it didn't seem to be growing any more crowded. 

Sitting on the floor beside the column left her partially hidden, so she felt free to turn her attention to the people and traffic around her, thinking no one was likely to notice her staring. She need not have worried. Most of the persons hurrying to and fro about her were too absorbed in their tasks or destinations to notice anything. _It's almost like being invisible_ Isabel thought.

Two parents and a boy of 15 or 16 caught Isabel's eye. They were pushing a trolley with a large wooden trunk on it. The boy seemed quite average but the parents seemed a bit - off. They had made some "interesting" fashion choices. The man wore over-large pin-striped trousers, a green rugby shirt, and boating shoes. The woman wore one of those unfortunate hats that Isabel tended to associate with Queen Elizabeth. She also sported a pink turtleneck sweater over a yellow tartan kilt-skirt along with boating shoes similar to those of her husband.

As Isabel watched their progress they seemed rather absorbed in conversation with one another. So much so, in fact, that they hadn't noticed that they were headed _toward_ the barrier between platforms instead of _alongside_ it. Isabel couldn't stop watching them, eager to see if they would just smash into the barrier. It certainly seemed that they were going to. But then they were just - gone. Isabel gave her head a slight shake and squinted to where she had last seen them. She even looked carefully up and down the platform, but they seemed to have disappeared. _I really must be tired to lose track of that lot!_ she thought to herself. 

She continued to watch people rushing past with packages, lugging suitcases, and trying to calm petulant children. Even the teenagers seemed to be a bit out of control. She noticed two break away from their parents at a dead run. They, too, seemed headed straight for the barrier. Then they, too, just seemed to disappear. _Now this is odd_, Isabel thought.

As more and more people crowded around the end of the platform, she began to try and keep close track of some of them. No matter how she tried not to lose them, however, each and every one seemed to disappear into thin air.

She watched a pair of older teens walk, chatting, up to the barrier leaning against the wall as they talked. As Isabel watched, the shoulders against the barrier disappeared - in to it. Then a portion of the torso, the head, and the rest of their bodies just seemed to melt sideways in to the wall! How could this be? Still, it made a kind of weird sense. If people were somehow walking through the barrier to some other part of the station it would explain why so many of them seemed to disappear. _Hullo! People can't walk through walls! _

Isabel stood up swinging her duffle and rucksack over her shoulders. She had to see. Casually, she made her way to the barrier between her platform and the next. When she was at about the middle of the area where everyone had seemed to disappear she looked out toward the rest of the station. No one was paying any more attention to her than they had earlier. She stood with her shoulder just an inch away from the barrier and took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Then, very gingerly, she stepped sideways.

Nothing happened. Nothing at all. This included what should have happened: her shoulder hitting the wall. Slowly she opened her eyes and was immediately taken by surprise. She was on an entirely different train platform that hardly looked as if it were a part of The King's Cross. Sitting on the tracks was a gleaming scarlet _steam_ engine. All around were chattering students and the adults seeing them off on the train. Several of the students were wearing long robes... as were some of the parents.

The air was filled with the sound not only of chattering children and parents but also the hooting of owls in cages and the hissing and plaintive "mewing" of cats in carriers. A few feet from Isabel a child complained to her mother,

"He's broken my glasses again!"

Isabel turned a bit to see a girl of about 12 or 13 glaring at a boy who was probably her brother. In her hands she held a pair of glasses snapped in halves at the bridge.

"Really, Gregory! I think we've had just about enough of this!" the mother exclaimed irritably. She then pulled a wooden wand out of her robes and tapped the broken spectacles with it saying "Reparo!" Instantly, the glasses were whole and the girl put them on with a look of disgust at her brother.

Isabel wasn't entirely sure she had seen what she thought she had. Still, as she looked around it was clear that something strange was going on. She watched a woman give an older student a hug and kiss and then disappear into thin air with a faint "pop." Further down the platform parents were saying goodbye to a scared looking boy of about eleven at the same time they tried to placate his much younger sister. With a sigh, the Father took out a wooden wand like the one the mother of the girl with the broken glasses had. He directed it at the little girls rag doll which began to float in the air and dance to the movements of the wand. Upon seeing this, Isabel shook her head sharply. That didn't change her surroundings so she shook it again. She then tried deep breathing and rubbing her eyes. All to no avail.

The whistle on the train blew and there was a scramble of students getting on the train and compartment doors being shut. Parents and children were waving at one another as the train pulled away from the platform. As the train began to pick up speed several of the parents turned and walked back _through_ the wall. Others simply disappeared into thin air with that popping noise; one right after the other with a sort of reverse-popcorn effect.

Isabel didn't realize that she had said "Oh my God" aloud until a man near her turned and looked at her rather closely. Her luggage, in particular, seemed to trouble him. Finally, with the air of a man who has committed himself to action, he pulled out a wand and strode toward her.

As he raised the wand Isabel instinctively ducked -just as the man cried "Obliviate!" A split second later there was a loud crack above Isabel. She glanced up at the man and noticed his wand was pointed exactly where her head had been. As she watched, the man advanced another step and made to raise his wand again. The time had come for bolder action, so Isabel straightened up and stepped toward him, raising her hand.

"Hey! Watch where you're pointing that thing Mister!"

The man was obviously taken aback and the moments delay this caused was enough for the several men and women whose attention had been attracted by the noise to gather.

"What's going on, Nigel?" asked a tall, balding man with very red hair.

"'It's a muggle. Don't know how she got through the barrier but she's a muggle right enough. I was just going to wipe her memory." Nigel explained pointing his wand at Isabel for emphasis.

"Now hold on just a bloody minute!" Isabel snapped, "I don't know who you people are or what this place is, but I do know that I'm not about to sit still for you to mess with my memory - or anything else!"

"You don't have much of a choice," the man called Nigel said again making as if to raise his wand.

"Whoa, hold on there, Nigel," the red-headed man said, "I think we need to think about what we're doing. At the very least we need to question this woman about how she got through the barrier." With that, he turned to the other men and women and raised his voice,

"It's all right. The Ministry is taking this in hand. Please go about your business."

There was grumbling among the group but they began to leave just the same. A few walked casually through the barrier. Many others, including Nigel, disappeared with the popping sound that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. The red-haired man guided Isabel to a bench and sat down with her.

"My name is Arthur Weasley and I work for the Ministry of Magic," He said, "And you are?"

Isabel just looked at him. He said what he did so sensibly as if it were perfectly normal.

"I'm sorry," she said, "The Ministry of _Magic_?"

"Yes. I am a wizard. All the people you saw here today are witches and wizards."

_Oh,_ she thought to herself sarcastically, _Well that explains it perfectly!_

"I think," Arthur Weasley continued, "it is a fairly safe assumption that you are not."

"Not what?"

"A witch."

"No, I'm not. At least not since Halloween 1989."

Arthur Weasley looked confused.

"My Halloween costume that year was a witch." Isabel explained flatly.

"Oh! I see!" Weasley said with a funny little smile, "But you have no magical abilities, then?"

"Er, no. It seems all of you have the advantage over me there."

"Well, I suppose," Weasley said uncertainly, "It's just that this - Platform 9 3/4 - is supposed to be impenetrable to Muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Ah, sorry. 'Muggle' is a word we use for non-magical persons like yourself."

"I see. Well, it's not exactly flattering is it?"

"I don't suppose I've ever thought about it," Mr. Weasley said faintly, then continued in a more confident tone, " In any case we have laws about revealing our existence to Muggles. This is why Nigel tried to modify your memory. That's what we usually do when Muggles happen upon us."

"So you want to 'modify' my memory because I know you exist?"

"Not me personally, but someone from The Ministry will want to do it."

"No."

"Pardon?"

"No. I'm sorry that my knowing about you is a problem for you; but I will not let you play with my memory."

"Ah, er, well, I'm not sure-"

"See here, just because you can aim one of those things at my brain and muck around doesn't mean that you have a right to. I won't sit still for it."

Mr. Weasley seemed at a loss so Isabel pressed her advantage, "I don't know much about wizard laws, but I do know that British law doesn't look too kindly on persons being held and subjected to 'modifications' against their will."

Mr Weasley had no reply to this. _Good,_ Isabel thought, _That probably means we're still in Britain, wherever else we might be._

There was a double "pop" and the wizard Nigel and another man appeared. The second man stepped forward toward Isabel and Mr. Weasley.

"Arthur, good to see you. I trust the children got off to Hogwarts all right?"

"Good to see you, too Carl. And, yes, the children got off fine." Mr. Weasley turned toward Isabel and said, "This is Carl Parrish he works for the Accidental Magic Reversal Department at the Ministry of Magic. Carl this is- I'm sorry, you never told me your name."

Isabel looked Parrish in the eye with as much bravado as she could muster and said,

"My name is Isabel Clay."

"A pleasure to meet you Ms. Clay," Parrish said extending a hand. Isabel paused and then took it gingerly. When nothing happened she seemed relieved and tried to shake it firmly. 

"So, have you explained to Arthur how you got through the barrier?" Parrish asked cheerfully.

Mr. Weasley answered before Isabel could, "No, we haven't gotten to that. There are some, ah, _issues_."

Parrish frowned slightly then said, "Well, first things first. Ms. Clay, would you please tell us how you wound up here?"

Isabel considered her reply for a moment. But, as she could see no real harm in it, she explained,

"I was early for my train, it wasn't at the platform yet. I noticed a lot of people coming onto the platform but also noticed the crowd never grew any larger. When I noticed that people seemed to just evaporate on the spot, I watched more closely. I notice that people were actually walking through the wall so I decided to give it a try. Your friend over there seems to think that warrants putting a hole in my mind but I disagree."

"That is the issue," Mr. Weasley supplied helpfully, "She objects to having her memory modified. She says we don't have the right to do it against her will. I'm not sure we do, quite frankly."

Parrish was shaking his head and looking at Isabel as if he'd never seen the like of her before.

"You know, Arthur, I don't think we've ever had a case before where a Muggle objected."

"Well, of course, they don't usually have the chance to. When Nigel tried to do the memory charm on Ms. Clay she ducked and he missed. When I came over it looked as if she was ready to grab his wand and whack him over the head with it." Mr. Weasley explained.

Isabel was impressed. She _had_ been thinking of grabbing the wand. She hadn't planned on beating him about the head with it, however. She was just planning to snap it in two.

"Well, there's nothing else we can do," Parrish sighed, "We'll just have to take her into the Ministry."

"No."

"Ms. Clay?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you people. Do you think I'm nuts?"

Mr. Weasley smiled, "Quite the contrary."

Parrish wasn't smiling as he said, "Arthur, a word?" Mr. Weasley got up and walked a with Parrish a few feet away. Isabel strained to hear what they were saying.

"Even I can understand her point but-"

"... really think there is no choice?"

"...at least an inquiry."

"... don't suppose explaining to her again?"

"Fudge is going to have a fit..."

Isabel sat on the bench thinking how very absurd the whole situation was. What did they think she was going to do, anyway? Did they think she was going to go to the Sunday Times? _Yeah right, that would get me free room and board in the mental ward for the rest of my vacation_ she thought bitterly. She looked at her watch and realized that her train was leaving in just a few moments. _Okay, that's it. I don't have to stay here_, she thought. With that she rose, shouldered her duffle and rucksack, and headed resolutely toward the magic barrier. She was just about to step through it when she heard a voice yell "Stupefy!". In the spit second before she lost consciousness, Isabel thought, _Dammit, I knew I should have snapped that idiots wand!_


	2. Chapter Two: Isabel, again.

CHAPTER TWO: Isabel 

Isabel woke slowly feeling as if she were surfacing from a fog. She could tell she was lying down on what felt like a couch. She could hear voices that sounded as if they were coming from behind a door but she couldn't make out what they were saying. _Where was she?_ Then it came back to her in a rush: the magic wall, wizards, memory modification. She must have fallen asleep or fainted while waiting at the station and had a very odd dream.

She shook her head to clear it, then opened her eyes slowly. She was in some kind of an office. Well, then, whatever had happened couldn't be too bad or she would be in hospital or clinic. That was good. She most likely had missed her train, however. That wasn't good. Perhaps she'd be able to catch another one today.

She sat up carefully and looked around. The office was paneled in dark wood and dominated by a large desk. The desk was littered with very old looking books, stacks of old paper, and old-fashioned feather quills and inkpots. There was also a lime green bowler hat perched on the edge of it. On the walls were several oil paintings in heavy ornate frames.

One painting was a pastoral scene done in the impressionist style. In the foreground a picnic had been laid, but the painting had no people in it to enjoy the meal. That seemed odd but not nearly as odd as the rest of the paintings. All of them were portraits and the subject of each and every one was sleeping. _Why,_ she wondered, _Would someone want a portrait of themselves having a nap?_ She squinted at the nearest portrait, of a man in ornate Tudor costume. It was done so well it almost seemed as if his chest were rising and falling. Come to that, so did most of the portraits. This gave Isabel a bad feeling. 

She rose to get a closer look just as two people wandered back into the picnic scene, sat down, and began to eat. Isabel squawked in surprise and the door at the far end of the office flew open to admit several people. Unfortunately, Isabel recognized two of them from her dream.

Mr. Parrish and Mr. Weasley stood beside another man who wore an immaculate pin-striped suit and green velvet robes that matched the hat on the desk. Weakly, Isabel realized that the events she remembered upon waking hadn't been a dream after all. Isabel backed away from the three men until she felt the back of her legs hit the couch and she was forced to stop. Her face must have betrayed some fear because Mr. Weasley stepped forward with a concerned expression and said,

"Please, Ms. Clay, no one wants to harm you."

"Where am I?" she snapped 

"You're at the Ministry of Magic, child." said the man in green.

Isabel shot an indignant look at Parrish and Weasley,

"I told you I wouldn't come here so you knocked me out and brought me anyway! This is kidnapping!"

"We are sorry, Ms. Clay, but neither Arthur nor I stunned you. It was Nigel. But as you were unconscious and we needed to consult the Minister we thought it best to bring you here." Mr. Parrish explained a bit defensively.

Isabel "humphed" but said nothing. The realization that, like it or not, these people could do whatever they wanted to her was beginning to sink in. She was feeling a lot less sure of herself than she had earlier. But she reasoned that her best defense so far had been a good offense so it was best not to betray her growing lack of confidence.

The man in green stepped forward to introduced himself. "I am Corneilus Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Ms. Clay, will you have a seat?" he said gesturing at the couch behind her.

"Thank You" Isabel said shortly and sat. Truth be told she was glad for the chance to sit because she wasn't sure how much longer she could have kept her legs from visibly shaking. Fudge took the seat behind the desk while Mr. Parrish and Mr. Weasley turned the two chairs in front of the desk around to face the couch and sat down as well.

"Ms. Clay, you have presented us with quite a little dilemma which Mr. Weasley has urged us to take seriously. I think you may take it as a pledge of our good faith that we did _not_ modify your memory while you were stunned and incapable of objecting."

That hadn't actually occurred to Isabel and it did make her feel a bit better. She was clearly not out of the woods, however. 

Fudge continued, "We could take this matter before the Council of Magical Law for a decision. I am inclined, however, to try and handle the problem on this level without bringing in the Council."

"Begging your pardon sir," Isabel interrupted, "But I don't see what the problem _is_. I mean, why is my knowing you exist so awful?"

"Well, naturally, were it to become widely known that there are witches and wizards certain problems and demands would arise which would make it very difficult for magical people to live their lives."

"But I'm only one person. Honestly, do you think that anyone would believe me if I _were_ to tell them?"

"Well, no, that is highly unlikely."

"Surely I'm not the first, um, 'Muggle' is it?" she said with a hint of distaste, " Surely I'm not the first Muggle to discover that there are witches and wizards?"

"No, of course not. Most however, know of our existence because there are witches and wizards in their _families_ or because they have married a magical person. That is a different situation entirely."

"_Most_ but not all?

"No, there are some Muggles, such as your Prime Minister, who know."

"O.K., so why can't I be among that group?"

There was a pause after this question until Mr. Weasley spoke up.

"That is a good question, Corneilus."

"Well, Arthur," Fudge replied a bit testily, "It's a question of _precedent_."

"But how often does this really happen? This is one in how many centuries?" Mr. Parrish asked.

"And," said Mr. Weasley, "even if it did occur more often, there is still the ethical question to be dealt with. I don't think we have the right to force magic on a Muggle who understands and objects."

Fudge sighed heavily and Isabel tried to think of something she could add that might help her case. It seemed that this Fudge was at least open to hearing her side and she wasn't sure that the Council of which he spoke of would be. 

"If you are concerned about precedent, sir," she said, "Wouldn't it be better for you to decide rather than an official Council?"

"Indeed, Indeed," Fudge said waving an impatient hand in her and the other two wizards' direction, "I need time to consider this. If you would all excuse me I would be most grateful."

Weasley and Parrish rose, returning their chairs to their original positions. Isabel had stood as well, but was at a loss as to where she should go. Arthur Weasley gave her a small smile and gestured for her to follow, which she was only too glad to do. When they reached the anteroom, Isabel noticed it contained a thin-lipped witch at a desk. She must be his secretary, Isabel thought. Carl Parrish nodded at the woman and excused himself saying he had work to do in his office.

"Ms. Clay, may I offer you a cup of tea? I have some in my office." Mr. Weasley said kindly.

Isabel nodded gratefully. The witch behind the desk kept glancing up at her with an increasingly sour expression. She did not relish the though of sitting with her to wait.

"This way," Mr. Weasley gestured toward a hallway. Just then, however, Isabel heard that popping noise again and couldn't help wincing. A tall wizard in purple robes had appeared next to the secretary's desk and she was clearly not happy to see him. The wizard must certainly be old, for his long hair and beard were silver white and he wore old-fashion half moon glasses. But the blue eyes twinkling over the glasses gave him an age-less look.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed with a note of surprise, "How good to see you."

"Thank you, Arthur, it is good to see you as well." Dumbledore replied. Then, turning to the secretary he said, "Would you be so kind as to let the Minister know I have received his owl and am here to discuss it in person? Thank you." The secretary didn't look as if she cared to interrupt the Minister, but she disappeared into his office just the same.

Dumbledore then turned to Isabel. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he said.

Isabel felt instinctively that she could trust this man and immediately replied, "I am Isabel Clay."

"Albus Dumbledore," the man said, then continued dryly, "At your service I expect."

"Sir?" Isabel said raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"You are, I assume, the Muggle who found her way onto Platform 9 3/4 late this morning and subsequently refused to have her memory modified?" he asked with the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. 

"Well, yes. That would be me."

"Well, Ms. Clay, I am glad to see your memory is still intact. I'm here to express the opinion that it should remain so."

This gave Isabel a sense of relief. It seemed, somehow, if this man were on her side she might have a chance after all.

"May I ask you to tell me the details of what transpired this morning?" Dumbledore asked.

Yet again, Isabel told the story. When she had finished Dumbledore's eyes were again crinkling above his glasses as he chuckled softly. 

"Well, you can see _and_ think. You must have given the Minister quite a turn."

Isabel colored at this but said nothing as Fudge's secretary had, at last, re-appeared. Her arms were now burdened with a great pile of parchment. She gave Dumbledore an accusing look which gave Isabel the impression she blamed him.

"I am to send you in." she said curtly.

Dumbledore left them with a nod. Isabel felt Mr. Weasley's hand on her arm as she looked at the closed door to Fudge's office.

"How about that tea?"

"Yes, thanks," she said, letting herself be led away from the ill-tempered secretary to Mr. Weasley's cluttered office down at the farthest end of the hall. Nearly forty-five minutes had gone by before they were summoned back to Fudge's office. Mr. Parrish and Dumbledore were both standing beside Fudge's desk as Isabel and Mr. Weasley arrived. Isabel tried to get an idea of what was coming from their faces but before she could decide what Dumbledore's meant Fudge was speaking in a very official tone.

"Ms. Clay, it is with some trepidation that I have decided to drop the matter of modifying your memory." At this, Isabel let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"However," Fudge continued, "as a condition of this you will be asked to sign an oath that you shall not willfully reveal the existence of the magical community to your fellow Muggles."

"Yes, of course, gladly." Isabel said quickly. _Where's the pen?_ she thought, _let me sign it and get out of here before he changes his mind._

Fudge presented Isabel with a piece of handwritten parchment and a feather quill. Isabel looked at the quill blankly for a moment, then caught sight of an inkpot and carefully dipped the quill in. She signed her name a bit sloppily. Fudge seemed satisfied and dismissed them all from his office. 

Once beyond Fudge's door Mr. Parrish smiled at Isabel and extended his hand, "Congratulations, Ms. Clay, I am glad you prevailed." Isabel shook his hand with mild surprise. She hadn't been sure how he would feel about this. Parrish then nodded to the group and disappeared with that "pop". 

Isabel turned to Mr. Weasley and asked, "Um, I was wondering. I don't have any idea where I am, you see. Could you tell me how to get back to King's Cross Station?"

"Oh, of course. Certainly, if you like." Mr. Weasley said looking a bit dissapointed. Isabel didn't have time to wonder why this would disappoint him because Dumbledore spoke.

"Ms. Clay, I don't want to intrude on your plans but I would like to extend an invitation to return with me to Hogwarts, our school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Isabel was rendered temporarily speechless. She had not expected this. Finally, she spoke.

"Well, actually, I don't really have any firm plans for you to intrude upon. I'm just traveling for a while so my plans are open. So, um, well yes, I would like to come very much. It's just that I thought you people wouldn't want me to see any more ...magical things."

Dumbledore nodded, "I am sure some people would rather you saw no more. I am of the opinion that, so long as the proverbial cat is out of the bag, we ought to try and discover how or why you were able to penetrate an impenetrable barrier. A stay at Hogwarts would give me a chance to try and discover the reasons. In addition, I expect Hogwarts itself might be of interest to you."

"Are you kidding? When do we leave?"

Before Dumbledore could answer, Mr. Weasley asked a question in a worried tone.

"Ah, Professor, are you sure-?" he asked trailing off but inclining his head toward Fudge's office.

"Yes. Fudge was ambivalent when I first made the suggestion, but even he realizes that it may be important to know what enabled Ms. Clay to enter the platform. Besides, the 'damage' has already been done. He is comforted by the notion that he will know where to find Ms. Clay should those examining the barrier have further questions for her."

Mr. Weasley nodded philosophically and Dumbledore went on to explain to Isabel how they would travel magically using something called "Floo Powder" and a fireplace. Hearing this, Isabel was again struck by how surreal the whole situation was. _Still,_ she reasoned, _there is no doubt this will be a much more interesting vacation than I had planned._

They left from the fireplace in Arthur Weasley's office. Before they did, however, Mr. Weasley peppered Isabel with advice on Floo travel.

"Speak clearly when you step into the fire. Keep your arms tucked to your side so you don't bump your elbows. Oh, you might want to keep your eyes shut, too. My son Ron's friend, Harry, said that keeping his eyes open the first time he traveled by Floo made him nauseous. 

"Speaking of Ron - he and my sons Fred and George and my daughter Ginny are all students at Hogwarts. You'll recognise them by their red hair.

"Good luck." He said and stepped away from the fireplace.

Dumbledore picked up her duffle and said, "I will go first to demonstrate. Remember, your destination is 'Hogsmeade Station.'"

"Right," Isabel nodded trying not to look nervous, "'Hogs-mead Station' Got it. See you there."

Dumbledore then took a pinch of silver powder out of a pouch from within his robes. He put it in Isabel's hand and took another for himself. He threw his powder into the fire whose flames turned green and leapt high in the grate. Dumbledore stepped into the flames, was heard to say "Hogsmeade Station" and was gone.

Isabel stood quite still for a moment, staring at the fire where Dumbledore had been. She wasn't sure she still had the nerve to try this. Mr. Weasley put a fatherly hand on her shoulder and said, "It's alright - quite easy actually - You can do it."

Isabel stepped to the hearth and cleared her throat. She took firm grasp of her rucksack at the same time trying to keep her elbow tucked in. Then, with a deep breath, she threw the silver powder into the flames. Again they rose up green. Isabel clamped her other arm to her side and stepped into the fire yelling "Hogs-mead Station!" She felt herself spinning in the green light as the openings of fireplaces whipped by at an impossible rate. It did make her feel a bit queasy and she remembered Mr. Weasley's advice and closed her eyes.

She felt like a spinning top dropping down a tunnel. It seemed she had spent a great deal of time doing this when she finally sensed herself slowing down. She closed her eyes more tightly and braced herself. A moment later she landed hard and fell out of a fireplace onto a flagstone floor. Coloring, she quickly glanced around to see if anyone had seen her fall. Only Dumbledore seemed to notice her. He stood waiting patiently a few feet away. He stepped forward and offered her a hand up. Isabel noticed that he was surprisingly strong. She spent a minute or two brushing and batting the ash off herself then turned to the Professor.

"Onward and Upward?" she asked.

"Literally." he replied gesturing toward a door on the far side of the large, mostly empty, room. They stepped outside into the crisp mid-afternoon sun. Isabel looked around and saw a very quaint village nestled up against the foothills of craggy mountains. The air smelt of peat, woodsmoke, and heather. _Amazing!_ she thought, _I wound up in Scotland after all!_

Dumbledore led the way to a well worn footpath that led away uphill away from the station and the town. Isabel reached for her duffle but Dumbledore waved her away. They walked up the first hill in silence as Isabel looked all around her trying to take in as much as possible. As they crested the hill, Isabel caught sight of a very old and extremely large castle a short way distant. It was a top-heavy jumble of turrets and towers which looked to have been cobbled togther with very little forethought. In fact, it looked as if it were standing in opposition to the laws of physics. _Well,_ Isabel thought, _I guess it probably CAN defy the laws of physics._

She glanced over at Dumbledore and saw him regarding her with a benevolent smile.

"I don't often get to see someone taking in their first sight of Hogwarts Castle," he said, "Doing so tends to renew one's appreciation."

"It does tend to boggle the imagination, sir."

"Well put," Dumbledore chuckled and continued on toward the castle. "Tell me, Ms. Clay, can you think of anything odd that you've seen or done before this morning?"

"Such as?"

"Anything that didn't mesh with the laws of nature or 'common sense.' For instance, something strange and inexplicable that may have happened to or near you during a time of emotional stress. Or perhaps what you call 'psychic abilities' or premonitions."

Isabel considered this for several minutes as they crested another hill. Dumbledore seemed content to let her think and waited for her to speak without comment. Finally, she said apologetically, 

"Not really. Not that I can think of , anyway. At best, I suppose I've had a premonition or two but nothing significant. Why? What are you thinking?"

"Well, it seems to me that the first thing we must do in our effort to discover how you, as a Muggle, were able to penetrate the barrier is to see if you are actually a Muggle."

It was Isabel's turn to chuckle, "Trust me, that is a safe assumption."

"Still, if you would indulge me, please tell me about your premonitions."

Isabel felt embarrassed. "They're silly, really. I sometimes know who is on the telephone. I've sensed danger before something happened once or twice. Stuff like that. Frankly, I'm not convinced those things can't be explained as the result of the subconscious mind adding up observations of the conscious.

You know, things that you notice but don't know you notice. For instance noticing the weather is bad, and that someone who is about to drive is in a bad mood and remembering in the back of your mind that they have bad brakes. It would be reasonable to feel they are in danger. Even you don't realize that you've added together those observations so you call it a premonition."

Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps, yes. But perhaps no. It has been my experience that non-magical people are trained by their culture from earliest childhood to find any explanation but magic for magical things. You may have had genuine premonitions but encouraged yourself to find a 'logical' explanation for them."

"Well we've certainly got good reason," Isabel noted dryly, "to believe in magic is generally considered the sign of an unbalanced mind. Why would anyone go for an explanation that seemed irrational and could land them in a mental ward when a nice 'logical' one was available?"

"Exactly. This is what most non-magic people do. I would point out to you, however, that there were doubtless any number of 'logical' explanations for what you saw this morning at King's Cross; yet you chose to explore the 'irrational' one."

Isabel had nothing to say to this and was saved from trying to by their arrival at the gates of the Hogwarts campus. A rolling hill lead up to the crazy-quilt castle. There was a lake at the bottom of the hill and a dense forest stretched away from its shore and out of sight. Dumbledore noticed Isabel looking at the forest.

"That is the Forbidden Forest. It is populated by a number of very dangerous creatures and is, as it's name implies, forbidden to our students. I think it wise if you avoid it as well."

Isabel nodded her assent and squinted at the innocent-looking woods. She didn't think avoiding a wood full of dangerous beasts would be a hardship. As they started up the slope to the castle Dumbledore spoke again,

"Our students will be arriving this evening. There will be a sorting ceremony dividing the new ones into one of the four School houses. This is followed by a feast. We would be pleased if you would join us at the staff table for the feast and other meals. You will be most welcome in the staff room as well. You are free to observe classes as you wish once the term begins in the morning. I will introduce you to the students at the feast as our guest." 

They were at the foot of stone steps leading to large oak doors. Dumbledore mounted them and held a door open to Isabel. She stepped through and found herself in a truly impressive entrance hall. It was vast and centered around a magnificent marble staircase. Several torches in holders along the wall had been lit in anticipation of the coming twilight and a large door to the right revealed a glimpse of a very large room filled with tables and chairs.

"This is wonderful." Isabel breathed.

"Thank you. This is the entrance hall, the room to your right is our Great Hall where all meals are taken. Ah, Minerva, your timing is impeccable!" Dumbledore had caught sight of a woman with square spectacles and a tight bun whose black robes swished as she approached them. 

"This is Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Mistress," Dumbledore said to Isabel. "Minerva, this is Isabel Clay, the young woman who gave Corneilus Fudge such trouble this morning. She will be our guest here for a time."

"A pleasure." McGonagall said extending her hand. When Isabel took her hand she noticed McGonagall had a formidable grip.

"Thank you. Likewise Professor."

"Minerva, if you would guide Ms. Clay to accommodations near Gryffindor Tower I would be most grateful. I'm afraid I have some things awaiting my attention in my office."

"Certainly, Albus." McGonagall replied pleasantly.

"Thank you sir." Isabel offered 

Dumbledore handed her duffle to her, said "See you at the feast" and was gone.

"Come, dear, you'll likely want to freshen up." McGonagall said in an unmistakable Scottish burr.

"Thank you, yes, that would be very welcome." 

As they started up the marble stairs Isabel could see that McGonagall was restraining herself from asking questions. Perhaps Isabel felt secure now that she was in Dumbledore's realm and not Fudge's. In any case, she surprised herself by asking McGonagall,

"So, did Professor Dumbledore tell you anything about me before he left?

"Only that a muggle had made her way onto Platform 9 3/4 and was giving Fudge some trouble."

Isabel grinned, "That was me. It does seem that I gave the Minister a few problems, too. I wizard tried to do a spell to change my memory but I ducked and his wand missed. After that I refused to let them."

"I can see how that would be a trouble to the Minister. I also see that you seem to have prevailed."

"Thank God. I wasn't too keen on anyone zapping holes in my mind. I think Professor Dumbledore helped convince your Minister to let me keep my memories. Now he wants to figure out how I got through the barrier at the train station."

"Indeed. That seems sensible enough. Ah, here we are."

McGonagall had stopped in front of a large painting of a road winding away over distant hills. A peasant sat, sleeping, next to a pack mule at the side of the painting's road. McGonagall cleared her throat rather loudly and the man started and looked up.

McGonagall said "Liberalitas" to the man and the painting swung forward to reveal an archway to small sitting room. McGonagall led the gaping Isabel into the room. As they stepped in, the portrait swung shut behind them. McGonagall stepped over to the fireplace and pointed her wand at it. Immediately cheery flames sprung up in the grate. She pointed at a door saying,

"Your bedchamber is through this door. The feast begins around six. There are some robes in the wardrobe that will fit you if you wish to wear them."

"Thank you. Um, what was the word you used to get in here, again?"

"The password is 'Liberalitas'"

"Liberalitus. Liberalitus. Got it. Do I use it to get out, too?"

"Not from the inside. I will ask our Caretaker, Mr. Filtch, to come by to show you the way back downstairs at a quarter to six. Now, I have several things to attend to so I will see you at the feast."

"Thank you. See you at the feast Ma'am."

McGonagall frowned a bit.

"You may call me 'Minerva' if you wish."

"I would be very grateful if you'd call me 'Isabel.' I've never been addressed as Ms. Clay so many times in one day before!"

"Ye'll get used to that at a school, Isabel. In any case, the student's won't call you Ms. Clay, they'll call you Madam Clay," McGonagall said. Isabel could have sworn she was trying not to smile. She didn't have much chance to confirm this for with that comment, McGonagall was gone.

"Good, Heavens," Isabel sighed, "_Madam_?"

Shaking her head, Isabel dragged her duffle bag into the bed and sat down beside it, searching it's depths intently. Finally she withdrew a small, leather bound book with very thin pages. Turning to the last section of it she ruffled through pages looking for something. Finally she found it the passage that had been rattling around in her head since Dumbledore had complimented her on being able to see AND think:

"Though they have eyes they do not see. Though they have ears they do not hear or understand. In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah: 'You will be ever hearing but never understanding; you will be ever seeing but never perceiving. For this people's heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes."


	3. Chapter Three: Hagrid

  


  


CHAPTER THREE: Hagrid   
  


Rubeus Hagrid, known to almost everyone simply as "Hagrid," whistled to himself as he walked back up the slope toward Hogwart's castle. Everything was ready for the arrival of the students early this evening. The boats used to ferry the first year students across the lake for their traditional journey were all moored on the shore below the Hogsmeade station. They were all in excellent shape and ready to go. The animal Hagrid had obtained for his "Care of Magical Creatures" Class was, as it happened, happily ensconced below the surface of the same lake. 

An extra spring found its way into Hagrid's step as he thought of the creature. He regarded it as a particular accomplishment that he had found the creature and managed to have it moved to the lake. Frankly, he was surprised the Ministry of Magic had been so high on the idea and helpful in the execution of it... especially after the difficulties Hagrid had with a Hippogriff two years earlier. Hagrid was not one to look a gift horse (particularly this gift horse) in the mouth, however, and was not inclined to ponder the surprising attitude of the Ministry too deeply. 

Frankly, this creature was a much needed lift after a difficult summer. Hagrid still didn't know if the outcome of his efforts on Dumbledore's behalf would be positive or no. _Still_, he noted philosophically, _he had done what he could and the rest was no longer up to him_. As he climbed the stone steps to the castle, Hagrid told himself that now it was time to focus on the school term ahead. Hagrid was looking forward to seeing the students crowding the corridors again. When he had returned a fortnight before, the Hogwarts campus had seemed particularly empty. 

Perhaps this was because most of the faculty were preoccupied with very grave matters, as they had not been for nearly a decade and a half. The students would be a welcome distraction from worries about which Hagrid could do nothing more. As Hagrid put his hand on one of the Castle's large oak doors and began to open it, a sharp voice caught his attention. 

"You can't be serious! Why now of all times?" 

"Severus, you know that I am quite serious. You also know that the Headmaster has good reason for what he does." 

"Of course, Minerva," came the impatient reply, "But you must admit that the timing couldn't be worse to have a muggle here." 

Hagrid had been about to clear his throat to let Professors McGonagall and Snape know he was within earshot, but Snape's last comment rooted him to the spot and he found himself listening harder. Dumbledore had brought a muggle here? _Well, that would explain his absence earlier in the day_, Hagrid thought. But, like Snape he had to wonder at the timing. 

McGonagall sighed then spoke, "I know that the timing is far less than ideal, but these things rarely schedule themselves conveniently. Given what happened this morning, I expect this is wise." 

Snape said nothing for a moment, then sighed himself noting grudgingly "Indeed. All this is true." With that, Hagrid heard the sound of footsteps echoing away on the stone floor. Hagrid shook himself and frowned. He was not in the habit of eavesdropping or of minding others' business. He was a bit ashamed of himself. Of course he was curious, but if he needed to know more he would be told. With that, Hagrid put the conversation out of his mind and set off toward the staff room. 

Hagrid had a particular talent for keeping the arrangements of his mind simple so that, by the time he reached the staffroom, he was once again whistling and thinking of his new creature. Hagrid stopped to let a yawning Professor Sinistra enter before him. With midnight astronomy lessons five days a week, Sinistra kept a slightly different schedule than most of her peers on the faculty. For her, the day was only just beginning and Hagrid suspected she was not a morning person. He followed her in and took a sturdy chair along the wall as Professor Flitwick hurried in followed by Professor Vector. 

Professor Snape was conversing quietly with McGonagall toward the front of the room and glancing impatiently at the door every few moments. Finally, Professor Dumbledore walked in, clearing his throat. 

"Our annual pre-term staff meeting." he said smiling around the room, "Soon the students will join us and fill the castle so that we might attempt to fill their heads. As you know, there are grave matters occupying the attention of several of your colleagues and myself at this time. While I do not feel it wise to try and shield the students from the present realities facing us all; it is my desire to keep Hogwarts functioning as normally as possible." 

Dumbledore looked around the room for a moment before continuing. "I look to you to maintain your usual high standards as the student body will look to you to set the tone for the year ahead." Many professors were nodding slightly. 

"There is, however, an unusual and somewhat unprecedented circumstance of which I need to make you aware." Most of the staff either showed signs of perking up or looked at Dumbledore with confusion or curiosity. Snape and McGonagall did not change expression which led Hagrid to suspect what was coming. 

"This morning a muggle with no apparent magical ability or connection walked through the barrier to platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station." There was a murmur of surprise that Dumbledore let die down before continuing, "The muggle in question avoided the clumsy attempts of a non-ministry wizard to modify her memory and, in fact, informed the representatives of the Ministry who arrived shortly thereafter that, as she did not wish her memory to be modified, they had no right to do so." 

Again, Dumbledore paused to allow the staff a moment to react. Hagrid couldn't be sure from the back of the room, but he thought the Headmaster's eyes were twinkling a bit in amusement. _Well_, he thought, _Dumbledore would be more likely than most to appreciate the humor in the situation_. Finally, the Headmaster continued, "After some deliberation and after certain conditions were met, the Minister of Magic decided not to force her to have her memory modified," Another murmur of reaction began, but this time Dumbledore held up his hand to quiet it and continued. "The muggle in question, a Ms. Isabel Clay, has agreed to be our guest here at Hogwarts so that we might endeavor to discover what allowed her to penetrate the barrier. It is my suspicion that what we find may be of some significance. In any case, Ms. Clay is to be treated as our guest and allowed free access. I suspect she will be most interested in observing some of your classes and it is my expectation that she be accommodated with courtesy." Here Dumbledore paused and again looked around the room. Most of the staff looked quite non-plussed at this news. "The fact that Ms. Clay is a muggle is **not** to be discussed with the student body at this time. She will be introduced as a guest and the students will be told to expect to see her observing lessons but that is all. I have my reasons for this and ask that you respect them." 

"Now, I believe, Argus Filch has some notes to share with you all." With that Dumbledore took a seat. A moment passed and Filch rose, turning to address the staff. Unlike most of the other persons in the room Filch looked neither stunned nor confused. For a moment it seemed to Hagrid that he had a look of disbelieving wonder on his face. But whatever his expression had been, as he pulled out a piece of parchment he was all business. 

"As you know there continues to be a problem during the school term with unnecessary mischief and mess in the corridors. To combat this I have made the following...." Hagrid's mind wandered as Filch continued with the latest modifications to the rules which would doubtless be no more effective than any had in years past. Hagrid had a more benevolent attitude toward the students than Argus Filch. Filch regarded the student body as a destructive force against which he was called to do battle. In fact, Filch kept the old chains and irons used on punish students in centuries past oiled and ready in the hopes that Dumbledore would finally see sense and allow him to put them to use again. 

Filch would no doubt get a certain amount of satisfaction in doing so. For, besides the resentment the students caused in Filch over the mess they could not seem to help making, they also engendered resentment as a result of something they could not help. The students had magical ability. Filch, while born into a wizard family, did not. He was what magical persons called a "squib." He had spent most of his career as caretaker channeling his disappointment and humiliation into his crusade to keep the students in line. 

As Filch launched into an enumeration of the additional items added to the list of over 400 hundred items forbidden to students in the castle, it occurred to Hagrid that the arrival of a muggle at Hogwarts would likely be a bright spot in Filch's world. Filch might appreciate having another non-magical person around. Although Hagrid was not a qualified wizard, himeself, he **did **have magical ability. This, and his more benevolent attitude toward the students had kept Filch from warming up to him. One might expect the caretaker and the groundskeeper to have a certain affinity toward one another, but Flich seemed to warm up to no one save his cat, Mrs. Norris. 

Hagrid had been so lost in his musings he hadn't noticed Filch giving the floor to McGonagall who was saying something about the annual O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams given to the fifth and seventh year students respectively. She then gave the floor back to Dumbledore who rose, smiling, "A good term to you all. Thank you." 

As the staff rose, they split into several small groups each talking excitedly to one another, doubtless about Dumbledore's unusual news. The kind of access he intended to give the muggle was unprecedented. The staff respected Dumbledore too much to question him, but they would have much to say to one another about it, nonetheless. For his part, Dumbledore seemed not to notice the excited murmurs of the staff but, instead, took Filch aside for a moment before leaving the room. 

Hagrid, like most of the staff, had about a dozen or so questions he wouldn't mind asking Dumbledore. Unlike them, he was content to wait for the answers. He ambled out of the room without joining in any of the discussion. If he left now, he would have time for a drink at the Three Broomsticks before it was time to meet the arriving students at the train station. 

In no time at all, it seemed, he was walking along the platform with a lantern raised high, calling out to the swarm of students leaving the train. "Firs' years this way! Firs' years over here!" He continued to call out as he lead a growing group of nervous eleven-year-olds to a spot at the end of the platform. As he moved amongst the crowd, first years in his considerable wake, Hagrid spotted a group of students with red hair that was vivid - even in the dim light of the lantern. He smiled and waved at the Weasleys: twins Fred and George, brother Ron, and little sister Ginny. His wave also encompassed Ron's friends Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Hagrid was especially fond of Ron, Harry, and Hermione and it was good to see them... especially Harry, about whom Hagrid had been somewhat concerned. 

The students returned Hagrid's smile and waved enthusiastically as they were swept along with the tide of older students heading for the carriages that would take them up to Hogwarts. _Good lot, them,_ Hagrid thought to himself, _though Merlin only knows what mischief Fred and George have planned with this being their final year! _The Weasley twins were among the most notorious pranksters and mischief makers known to Hogwarts in many decades. In fact, they so plagued Argus Filch that Hagrid suspected Filch might clap them in irons one day with or without Dumbledore's consent. 

Hagrid did a head count and, assured he had collected all the first year students, lead them down a path to where the boats were magically moored. He shepherded the anxious students, three or four each, into the boats then got in one himself - magically launching them on their journey across the lake. The night was calm and beautiful, perfect for the traditional journey. The stars' reflection twinkled on the surface of the lake along with the mirror image of the mountains' dark bulk. In just a moment the students would get their first good look at Hogwarts Castle. Hagrid grinned as a collective gasp issued from the many small boats around him. 

The reflection of the castle and its many lighted windows now spread across the surface of the lake as the boats grew closer. Just as the prows of the first few boats began to split the reflected image something else disturbed the water ahead of the boats. Hagrid rose to his feet as several of the students squealed in fright. Sure enough, a large dark shape was breaking the surface of the water in undulating waves just ahead of the boats. _Blast that beast_! Hagrid thought, more than a little annoyed. The last thing he needed was for yet another creature he had obtained for class to cause a problem with students. 

With grim determination, Hagrid propelled his boat ahead of those of the squealing students. The creature had disappeared under the surface but, if Hagrid was right, he would reappear in a moment. Sure enough, the water broke again as the creature made its way toward the small flotilla of boats whose occupants were now beginning to escalate from squeals to screams. Hagrid waited, patiently. Then, as the creature's large head surfaced near his boat Hagrid reached out and slammed his fist into the top if its skull. The creature's eyes rolled back and it sank beneath the glassy water. 

"Serves ye righ' yer big show off! 'S no wonder they wanted yer outta Inverness!" Hagrid growled at the part of the water under which the creature had disappeared. "All righ' then, calm down you lot. Nuthin' to worry about! Now, put yer heads down!" he called out as they approached the low entrance to a cave. Soon the boats' bottoms were scraping gravel as they moored themselves in a sort of underground harbor. McGonagall stood waiting with an expression on her face that seemed to Hagrid to be a bit more stern than usual. 

"Everyone out." Hagrid called. The frightened first years didn't need to be told twice. As they piled, trembling, onto the rocky shore McGonagall stepped crisply over to Hagrid and asked in a low voice, "Hagrid, did I hear screaming coming from the lake just now?" 

Hagrid colored and tried to laugh lightly, "Oh it wasn't nothing, Professor. My new creature just gave the students a start. I, er, took care of it." 

There was a pause during which McGonagall regarded Hagrid quietly. Finally she said, "I see." in a tone that gave Hagrid the distinct impression that she did, indeed. She turned sharply and walked to the head of the cluster of pale first years and took them in hand, leading them through the wooden door that lead into Hogwarts Castle. 

Hagrid allowed himself a small sigh of relief before following them. He saw McGonagall shepherding them into the chamber off the Great Hall as he, himself, moved toward the doors to go in to the Hall itself and take his place at the staff table. As he entered the noisy hall Ginny Weasley popped up and waved, poking her brother, Ron who also waved. Hagrid grinned widely and raised his hand before turning toward the staff table. 

Most of the professors were still chattering in an animated fashion to one another - no doubt still discussing their "guest." As he made his way toward the table Hagrid's eyes traveled along it, looking for the person in question. He was beginning to think she was not there when he saw her seated at the end of the table between Filch and his own empty chair. She was young, but not as young as the students. She wore a fairly nice set of black robes bearing the Hogwarts crest and looked remarkably "normal" for a muggle. Filch was chattering to her as she gazed around in what looked like amused wonder. Hagrid was glad for Filch. He remembered how good it was to have someone like himself at Hogwarts last year when Madame Maxime, the half-giantess Headmistress of the French magical academy, had been a guest here. 

Hagrid was just feeling a pang of longing for Madame Maxime when he noticed the young muggle woman notice him. She turned and her eyebrows raised, taking in his unusual size. Hagrid was just feeling his face begin to color when her face split into a grin. It was then Hagrid realized Isabel Clay was having the time of her life. 

As he stepped to his chair he held out his hand and said, "Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the Keys, groundskeeper, and Care of Magical creatures teacher." Isabel Clay continued to smile as she stood and took Hagrid's outstretched hand. When she took it, Hagrid noticed that her hand had a slight tremor. Or was that his hand? He didn't have time to think about it, however, as Professor McGonagall was ushering in the first year students for the sorting ceremony. Hastily he took his seat and tried to focus his attention on the new students. 


	4. Four: Harry

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: with chapter four you may notice time overlaps as the same events are told from another character's point of view. (JB, Isabel will be back)

CHAPTER FOUR: Harry 

As the Hogwart's express pulled to a stop at the Hogsmeade Station, Harry looked out the window and smiled at the familiar sight of Hagrid standing with his lantern raised. As Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys joined the crowd of students leaving the train, Harry could hear Hagrid calling out to the first year students and saw him herding them toward the end of the platform. Harry remembered when he had been a first year. He was excited and frightened but the sight of Hagrid, who he had met weeks earlier, had made him feel more at ease. Even four years further on, the familiar sight of Hagrid was comforting to Harry. Hagrid grinned and waved as he passed and Harry did as well. The sight of Hagrid made Harry feel, more than ever, as if he had arrived home. 

For certainly Harry felt more at home at Hogwarts than he did in his supposed "home" with his Aunt and Uncle (who were his guardians) and his obnoxious cousin, Dudley. The Dursley's never hid their dislike of Harry and strove with unequaled zeal to make his life miserable. Frankly, he hadn't needed any help on that front this past summer. The harrowing events at the end of last term had left him deeply shaken. Harry had witnessed the "resurrection" of Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Wizard for a century. A classmate had died and Harry had barely escaped from that ordeal with his life.

He had much opportunity to brood on the events of that harrowing night in the seemingly endless weeks spent at his Aunt and Uncle's. Too often, he woke from nightmares drenched in sweat. Too often, he found his thoughts wandering to things he had seen, to things about which we was anxious but had no ability to change. Even his "family" seemed to notice that Harry had changed - for they left him alone far more than they ever had. His friends had been terrific about sending plenty of post owls full of cheery news and Harry suspected that these letters were, in large part, responsible for helping him make it to September first, the day of his return to what he felt was his true family at Hogwarts, to people who at least understood.

After Harry and his friends were deposited at the steps to the castle by the carriages which moved under a magical power of their own, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny eagerly mounted the stone steps, with Ron groaning, as usual, about how hungry he was. 

"I'm starving! I hope the sorting doesn't take long!"

Hermione rolled her eyes "Can you think of anything aside from your stomach?"

Ron turned to her with a wicked grin, "Not when I'm this hungry!"

Harry shook his head, smiling at their all-too familiar bickering. It had started up on the train. Harry had noticed, however, that Ron's barbs were not at all up to his usual standard. In fact, he looked a bit forlorn as they were swept along into the Great Hall and Hermione moved along to join the other prefects at the prefects' table. Harry was tempted to say something "smart" to Ron about this when he caught sight of Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw sixth year upon whom he had a bit of a crush himself. He colored a bit and decided that, as he lived in a glass house, he ought to refrain from throwing stones.

As they moved with the crowd into the Hall and found their seats there was much chattering and moving about as old friends and classmates who hadn't had a chance to catch up with one another on the train sought one another out. For its part, the familiar hall looked magnificent. The enchanted ceiling reflected the sparkling starlight of the night sky. The reflected starlight joined the winking of hovering candles, caught in the golden cups and plates used for feasts at Hogwarts. As Ron and Harry found seats alongside Ginny and fellow Gryffindor fifth year Neville Longbottom, Harry felt enfolded in warmth and familarity.

Harry turned his eyes to the Staff table which seemed unusually full this year. With a sly smile Harry noted the presence of Fleur Delacour, a graduate of Beauxbatons upon whom Ron had a hopeless unrequited crush the year before. This would surely be an interesting year. Delacour was not the only new face among the staff. A dark haired woman who seemed several years older than Fleur was seated between Hagrid and Filch who was chattering to her with a smile on his face. Harry wasn't sure he had ever seen Filch smile before. 

Harry pointed her and Filch's smile out to Ron who looked equally surprised.

"Well, she can't be the Dark Arts professor, can she? Look, Moody's down the other side near Snape." The scarred, eccentric old Auror was, indeed seated next to Snape taking a sip from his hip flask. Harry had to repress a slight shudder at how familiar this action was. It felt as if he had seen Moody do this hundreds of times the year before. In fact he had not. The man all had assumed to be Moody for most of the year had been an imposter... an imposter who had delivered Harry into the hands of the evil Lord Voldemort.

Harry understood that the man at the table was the real Moody. As he looked at him and remembered what happened last year, his stomach did not seem to agree with his head. He felt it contract and he was suddenly not very hungry at all. Harry put his hands flat on the table and took a deep breath, glad everyone was too busy to notice his reaction. But, when he looked up, he saw that not everyone had missed it. Professor Snape was staring at him levelly taking it in. Snape was about the last person Harry would have showed any weakness to. He expected Snape would be happy to see his distress. But Snape's expression was neutral and his eyes soon turned back to Moody.

Before Harry had time to think about this, people around him were taking their seats as Professor McGonagall ushered in the first year students for the annual ceremony where Godoric Gryffindor's thousand year-old hat would sort them into the appropriate school houses. The houses were named for Gryffindor and the other three founders of Hogwarts: Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Each house was supposed to contain students who had qualities valued by the founder after whom it was named. His own house was noted for its bravery, Ravenclaw for intellegence, Hufflepuff for hard work and fair play, and Slytherin for ambition. _Ambition wasn't the only quality shared by most Slytherins_, Harry thought grimly as Alicia Appleby was called forward to put on the sorting hat. Harry could think of a few choice words for the qualities shared by the Slytherins, especially his arch-nemesis Draco Malfoy, but he was determined to enjoy his first night back and so forced his attention away from the sour-faced Slytherins and back to the sorting.

When the sorting was finished, Professor Dumbledore rose for his usual beginning of term notes. Smiling benevolently upon the student body he shared the additions to Filch's notorious list of forbidden items. He gave the usual reminder about the Forbidden Forest being off limits, looking pointedly at the Weasley twins - as usual. As Dumbledore arrived at the point where he usually introduced new professors Ron elbowed Harry, rather unnecessarily, in the ribs. Indeed, Dumbledore gestured down the table as he said,

"Finally, I would like to introduce to you Madam Fleur Delacour who will be assisting the faculty this year." He paused for a polite round of applause that seemed to be more enthusiastic amongst the males in the crowd. Harry knew Delacour was part Veela, a siren creature, and even if she hadn't been, her delicate silver-haired looks would have attracted much male attention.

"I would also like to introduce Madam Isabel Clay who will be a guest at Hogwarts this term. You may expect to see Madam Clay observing some classes and it is our expectation that you show her every respect and courtesy." There was no applause but Dumbledore didn't seem to expect any. For her part, Isabel Clay was looking at her golden plate with color having risen a bit in her cheeks. "Now, to the feast!" Dumbledore said, and the tables magically filled with a sumptuous array of foods to which the students applied themselves enthusiastically.

Indeed, Harry felt his appetite returning as the aroma of the magnificently prepared food reached him. He let most other thoughts leave his mind as he piled his plate with everything he could reach. He had been expected to live mostly on lettuce and celery sticks all summer at his Aunt and Uncle's as his cousin Dudley still bore proportions roughly equivalent to a sea barge. It was wonderful to have as much food as he wanted and Harry enjoyed every bite, managing a second helping of many of the dishes and two fabulous desserts. 

Harry felt very full and quite content when Dumbledore rose to lead the assembly in the Hogwarts school song. The students gamely rose to their feet. Most of them enjoyed singing along using any tune they wished. The novelty had obviously worn off for most of the faculty, however, as most rose reluctantly with expressions that were neutral at best. As Dumbledore happily lead off, drawing the lyrics in the air with his wand, both Delacour and Clay started a bit in surprise. But, while Delacour proceeded to knit her brows in a disapproving frown, Clay's face drew into a smile and she was soon laughing. Harry noticed Ginny singing quite earnestly while he and Ron did their best to keep up using whatever tune came to mind with each new line. As usual, it seemed that Fred and George had chosen the most ill-fitting tune they could manage. As the students around him began finishing and leaving off singing Harry began to be able to discern Fred and George's tune. Unless Harry was very much mistaken, they were _chanting_. In fact, they were doing a rather good job of it, too. As everyone else finished singing the twins enthusiastically continued to raise their voices in solemn cadence. They even threw in a little harmony for good measure as Dumbledore conducted them with his wand. _They've been practicing!_ Harry thought, _Leave it to them to do the thing right._ When the twins had finally finished with an impressive multi-syllabic "Amen" Dumbledore sent the students off to their dorms and bed. 

As Harry rose to join the other students thronging out of the Hall he felt Ron's hand on his arm, "Let's wait for Hermione, shall we?"

"Not much point in that," Harry replied inclining his head toward the other end of the table where Hermione was taking the first year students in hand, "She's got to escort the firsties. Besides, she already gave me the password."

Ron looked a trifle disappointed but brightened up almost immediately.

"Fancy nicking down to the kitchens, then?"

Harry grinned back, "Good idea."

They hung back a bit waiting for the last of the crowd of students to leave so they could slip down the corridors to the kitchens. Before they could, however, Harry felt Hagrid's large hand on his shoulder. He and Ron, who also had a hand on his shoulder, turned to see the smiling face of Hagrid.

"Alrigh' there, boys?" he asked.

"Sure. How about you, Hagrid? How was your summer?" Harry asked. He knew Hagrid had been sent by Dumbledore on a "mission" over the summer and hoped Hagrid might let a hint about it slip.

"Jus' fine, Jus fine. Say, you haven't met Madam Clay have you?" Hagrid said as the person in question had begun to pass them on her way out of the hall. At her name, she stopped and turned to them with a smile.

"Ms. Clay, this is Ron Weasley and this is Harry Potter." 

Harry was ready for Isabel's eyes to make the all-too familiar sweep upward to look at the scar on his head. He hated this, but had grown used to it. But, to his surprise she did not. Instead she held out her hand and shook both their hands in turn murmuring "Pleasure to meet you."

"Ms. Clay doesn't know the layout of the castle very well yet. She's stayin' near Gryffindor Tower so how about you let her walk with you?"

Ron caught Harry's eye. Harry saw no choice so he just gave a slight shrug and turned to Hagrid.

"Sure."

"Righ' Good Night, then." Hagrid said and then he was gone.

As Harry and Ron walked out of the hall with Madam Clay Harry noticed McGonagall nodding absentmindedly in their direction.

Madam Clay asked them several questions about their year and their studies on the way up toward the tower and, before they had much time to worry about it, Harry and Ron were bidding her goodnight next to a very large painting that was, indeed, just down the corridor from the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. 

When they had given the password and climbed through the hole revealed as the portrait guarding their common room swung forward, they were hit by the sound of a great deal of excited chatter. While Hermione could be seen determinedly shepherding the first year students toward the stairs to their respective dorms, the rest of the Gryffindor students seemed prepared to carry on a bit before going to bed. 

"So what's up with that Clay woman?" Ron asked Harry.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's English, you can tell from her voice, but she doesn't seem to know _anything_ about Hogwarts. Doesn't that seem strange?"

"Um, well, maybe she went to another school instead." Harry offered uncertainly. "Although," he continued, "She's got to be the first person in something like forever who hasn't gawped at my scar when they met me."

"You think she doesn't know who you are?" Ron asked quizzically.

"Not necessarily. It was just - different."

"Well, she'd have to have gone to school a little farther away than Drumstrang or Beauxbatons not to have heard of _you_." Ron said with only a faint trace of irritation in his voice, "Maybe she went to Roanoke Academy, you know, in America."

"Ro-a-noke Academy? Is that the American School, then?" Harry said once again feeling as if there was a whole raft of things he, as a wizard raised by muggles, didn't know.

"Sure. It's on the coast near the first English Colonies." Ron said knowledgeably, "Actually, it's kind of a good story. Roanoke is an American Indian word that some early colonists used to name their settlement. I've no idea what it means. But, anyway, between the time they were dropped off and a supply ship returned the next year the whole colony just vanished without a trace." Ron grinned, obviously pleased with Harry's wide-eyed reaction, "The Muggles thought that the Indians must have kidnapped them and carried them all off."

"And they didn't?

"Nope. The Roanoke Settlers were witches and wizards. By the time the supply ship came back they had _made_ the colony disappear... at least to the muggles. It's still there. They started the American School for witchcraft and wizardry there. Of course, it's only been around for something like 300 years but I hear it's pretty good anyway."

"It's alright," said Hermione as she came up behind them, "Certainly it's better than Drumstrang and maybe even Beauxbatons; but it's not as good as Hogwarts."

"According to who?" Ron asked 

"Whom," Hermione corrected with a sigh, "It's mentioned in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe. About two hundred years ago, they managed to lure some of the best Professors from Beauxbatons and Drumstrang and there was quite a bit of bad feeling over it." Hermione explained matter-of-factly.

"How interesting," Ron replied in a tone that made it clear he didn't think it was.

Hermione shot Ron a look and countered, "So, thinking of transferring, then?"

Harry jumped in at this point, explaining why the topic of the American Academy had come up.

"Hmmm. Well, that would explain a lot. Anyway, it probably has something to do with Vol-Vol, er, The Dark Lord."

"Well, we can always ask Hagrid about it tomorrow, I suppose," Harry said. But somehow he figured Hagrid wouldn't have much to tell them.


	5. Five: Isabel yet again

CHAPTER FIVE: Isabel again. 

For a moment, when she woke up the next morning, Isabel couldn't remember where she was. Then she remembered. Hogwarts. A school for witches and wizards. She cracked an eye open and looked around. Yes. _She really was here_. She crawled out from under the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed going over the overwhelming number of people and things she had seen the night before. She thought about the big hall filled with young witches and wizards and wondered how she had failed to notice before this that there_ were_ witches and wizards in the world.

She didn't have much time to think about it, however, for just as she pulled on some clothes there was a sort of knocking on her "door" or rather the painting that served as a door. Pulling a hand quickly through her hair she walked over and pushed the painting outward. A very bright-eyed Argus Filch stood in the corridor beyond.

"I thought you might like someone to show you the way back to the Great Hall for breakfast," he said in a voice that seemed entirely too cheerful.

_A morning person_, Isabel thought grimly as she stepped back and motioned him through the opening. "Thank you. If you don't mind waiting a moment, I'll just hurry up and finish getting ready." 

Filch nodded his assent and Isabel went back through to the bedchamber closing the door firmly behind her. She rummaged through her suitcase and found her hairbrush. She ran it through her hair with one hand while, with the other, she continued to search the bag for her toothpaste and toothbrush. Once she had located them she dropped the hairbrush on her bed and took the toothbrush and paste over to the stone basin fixed to the wall in the corner of the room. There was a spout in the shape of a gargoyle but no faucets. She put her hand under the gargoyle's mouth to see if there was any hint of moisture indicating this was, indeed, a spigot when water suddenly gushed forth. Isabel jumped a little then thrust her toothbrush under the spray. Obviously she had a lot to learn about the magical world. After a rather quick brushing that would have distressed her dental hygienist no end, Isabel grabbed the black robe she had dropped in a chair the night before and joined Argus Filch, pulling it on as she went. 

The Great Hall was somewhat less crowded than it had been the night before. Apparently students and staff came and went as they pleased for regular meals. There were only a few persons at the staff table, none of whom Isabel yet recognized. Filch introduced her to a plump, untidy woman called Professor Sprout who patted the seat beside her then passed a tureen of oatmeal.

"How are you getting on, dear?" Sprout asked kindly

"Fine, I think. Thank you. I imagine I'll find my way around eventually."

Sprout smiled, "Well, it's a bit of a challenge for our new students and most of them don't have to deal with the disorientation you must be feeling."

Isabel felt a sense of relief at these words. They seemed to indicate Sprout knew her situation. She had failed to ask if the staff knew who she was and was grateful they did. It would make things much easier.

"I must confess," Isabel said making sure no students were close enough to hear, "It feels like a strange dream." Sprout nodded and opened her mouth to reply when a wizard in a very out-of-fashion suit and tie beneath his robes sat down across from them and immediately began chattering to Isabel excitedly.

"Ms. Clay, Very good to see you. How are you this morning? Sleep well in a 'strange bed' and all? Of course, to you it must have been a strange bed, indeed! Still, I'm sure you must be fine, mustn't you? You look fine, quite healthy. My name is Hume Oddbody I'm professor of Muggle Studies you know. You do know that 'muggle' is the word for non-magical persons like yourself, yes? There is so much that I'd like to ask you. It's a shame really we can't let the students know all of your, um, details right now, I'd love to have you speak to some of my older students. But that can't be helped, now can it? Still, perhaps later in the year. I see you made it down to the hall again, that's very good. So, tell me Ms. Clay, how are you getting on without electricity?"

Just as suddenly as he had begun the river of conversation, Oddbody stopped, apparently waiting for a reply. Isabel supposed he was waiting for an answer to the last of his questions.

"Er, well, I hadn't really noticed there wasn't any." she offered.

"Really? You didn't notice? _Fascinating_. You know it's a common assumption in the magical community that muggles are quite, quite dependant upon electricity for even the most basic needs of their daily lives. Tell me, how is it that-"

Mercifully, Professor McGonagall walked up just then.

"Pardon me, Hume, for interrupting, but I need Madam Clay," she said, turning to Isabel, "If you don't mind?" 

Isabel stood immediately with rather more speed than would normally be necessary, "Not at all. Nice to meet you both. Professor Sprout, Professor, er- Oddbody, Have a good day."

With that she quickly made her way around the table and followed McGonagall out of the hall. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but I need to escort you to our hospital wing before classes begin. I would have waited a few moments but-"

"You thought I could do with a bit of rescuing?"

"You did look rather at a loss. Hume Oddbody is a fine professor but sometimes his enthusiasm is a bit much to cope with." McGonagall said fighting a smile at the corners of her mouth.

At McGonagall's brisk pace it didn't take much time for them to make their way to the hospital wing. There were so many twists, turns, doors, stairs and strange corridors, however, that for the life of her Isabel didn't think she'd ever find her way back on her own. Once they were in the hospital wing and she had introduced Isabel to Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall turned and left as briskly as she had entered. Isabel looked after her for a moment then shook her head slightly. McGonagall seemed to do everything rapidly and efficiently. 

As she sat, Isabel quickly looked around to see what sort of place a wizard hospital might be. There were several beds lined neatly along the wall with sets of screens folded against the wall between a few of them. Mercifully, there didn't seem to be much else of note in the room, especially anything resembling medieval medical instruments._ Of course, they wouldn't necessarily be on display, would they?_

She didn't realize that she was perched nervously on the edge of her chair until Poppy Pomfrey looked up from a sheaf of papers she was consulting and said, "Really, dear, you can relax." Her words were rather brusque but they held an unmistakable hint of kindness.

Isabel shifted and forced a small laugh, "I'm sorry, it's just that I've never much liked needles."

Pomfrey almost dropped her papers, "Needles!? What, in Merlin's name, do you think we do here?"

"Well, um, don't you take blood when you do medical tests?" Isabel asked, feeling uncertain, "You use a needle, in the vein, for that you see," she finished weakly.

Poppy Pomfrey had gone slightly pale and had to steady herself with a deep breath before responding, "You've had this done?"

"Well, yes. I suppose most everyone has at one point or other."

Pomfrey was shaking her head, "I've heard of such things, of course. Still, it sounds - barbaric."

Isabel was not inclined to disagree with this assessment but Pomfrey's response left her with another question. 

"If you don't do blood tests how do you know what's ailing someone when the symptoms don't tell you all you need to know?"

"The symptoms usually do tell the tale. We treat the symptoms and, if one treatment doesn't work that fact often tells us what else we need to know and a more effective treatment is applied."

"So you have to endure a whole raft of treatments until you hit the right one?" Isabel asked with a grimace. "I'm not sure a needle isn't better" she said softly to herself.

Pomfrey's eyebrow sailed toward her hairline. Then, just as quickly as it rose, it fell and Pomfrey was chuckling. "Our treatments don't involve things like needles, dear. In the majority of circumstances the worst one has to contend with in an ineffective treatment is a foul-tasting potion."

"Oh. Well, I don't suppose that sounds too bad," Isabel said in an unconvincing tone. She was saved, however, from casting about for something else to say by the opening of the door. She couldn't help smiling at the sight of Albus Dumbledore with his crinkling eyes and flowing beard. Had it only been yesterday that she had entered this surreal world and met him? She repressed a small shudder at the thought of how close she had come to having a hole magically bored in her memory.

Dumbledore looked at her curiously, "Madam Clay, are you quite alright?"

"Oh, yes, certainly. In fact, Madam Pomfrey was just assuring me that your medical treatments don't involve many sharp objects; although she did warn me about the occasional 'foul-tasting potion'."

Dumbledore smiled appreciatively, "Quite so. Quite so. Although," he added, "I would wager Poppy's potions are easier to swallow than most."

Pomfrey colored slightly murmuring "Thank You, Albus."

"Well, Madam Clay-" Dumbledore began, but Isabel held up a hand to interrupt him.

"Please, if it's not overly familiar for you to do so, could you call me by my Christian, er, my first name?"

"I would be pleased to do so when not in the presence of students - if you, in turn would call me Albus on those occasions."

Isabel wasn't sure she _could_ address this venerable figure as anything other than "Sir." But it seemed a reasonable request.

"Thank you, S-, er, Albus."

The eyes crinkled again and Dumbledore continued, "Isabel, there isn't much that magical medicine can tell us if you are in good health. Certainly, there will be no sharp objects nor will there be any foul-tasting potions... at least today," again the eyes crinkled.

"Alright, what do you need me to do first?" Isabel asked.

"Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey spoke up, "As long as you are here, might I suggest you conduct your interview now while I attend some work in my office. I can administer my exam afterward."

"Thank you, Poppy, that is most considerate."

As Pomfrey walked back to her office Dumbledore moved a chair and sat opposite Isabel. He said nothing but regarded her with such intensity that Isabel felt he could see into her soul. She found herself unable to hold his gaze; so she looked down at her hands and tried not to fidget with nervousness. As the moments passed, Isabel was surprised to find herself relaxing much as if Dumbledore's gaze were a warm shaft of afternoon sunlight. She did not know how long they sat in this way. Finally, however, Dumbledore spoke,

"There is something in you, although I confess I cannot say if it is magic or not."

Isabel nodded, sorting out her thoughts. She supposed she was pleased he had seen something in her. Still, she didn't know what to say to this.

"May I ask you a few questions?"

"Of course."

"Were you born outside Britain?"

"No. I was born in London."

"Ah. Well, if you do possess magical ability Professor McGonagall will be quite grieved to hear of the failure of a certain quill," Dumbledore noted. Isabel had no idea what Dumbledore was taking about, "Pardon?"

"Of course you would not be aware, Isabel. Professor McGonagall has a magic quill which inscribes the names of British children with magical ability upon the occasion of their birth in a book kept for that especial purpose."

"Oh," Isabel said fighting the sense of unreality that had surrounded her since yesterday. Perhaps it would be best not to ask more questions but to simply let Dumbledore ask the questions.

Dumbledore did not miss a beat but continued, "Were you raised by your family of birth?"

"As far as I know. I mean, initially at least."

"Now I'm afraid it is I who does not understand."

"My birth parents died when I was eight. After that I was a ward of the crown... until I came of age, of course."

"I see," Dumbledore said kindly, "I am sorry to hear of this."

Isabel shrugged, "It was a long time ago."

Dumbledore regarded her kindly for a moment, then continued, "Isabel, have you thought of any strange events or psychic disturbances since our conversation yesterday afternoon?"

"Sorry, no. But, then, I haven't had much time for contemplation."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said as he reached into his robes and pulled out a wooden wand and handed it to Isabel. The wood was surprisingly warm in her hand, probably from being in Dumbledore's robes.

"Our Professor Flitwick tells me that this is an excellent multi-purpose wand. Would you grasp it firmly and raise it into the air?"

Isabel hesitated. Oddly, after everything else, this made her feel silly. Still, it wasn't as if everyone around this place didn't seem to have one of those. Yesterday she'd learned some of them weren't shy about pointing the things at others. So, she gripped the wand and swung it purposefully upward in an arc. For a brief moment Isabel had the impression the wood had come alive in her hand. The feeling was gone as fast as it had come. A moment later she wasn't sure she had felt it at all. Nothing else happened, although Dumbledore was again looking at her intently.

"Sorry." Isabel said with a shrug. She handed the wand back to Dumbledore who slid it into a long thin pocket just inside his robes. The purpose of these pockets had escaped her before this. _Well, at least that's one mystery solved today,_ she thought.

"I've had an owl from the ministry," Dumbledore began, but apparently saw the look of confusion on Isabel's face and started again, "I've had a letter from the Ministry of Magic this morning. Yesterday they tried sending several different muggles with relationships to the magical community through the barrier at King's Cross. None were able to penetrate it, so you are still an anomaly."

Isabel didn't know whether to be disappointed or happy at the news that her crossing the barrier had nothing to do with a failure of the barrier itself. On one hand, she liked and respected these people and wanted them to solve this mystery which was troubling them. On the other, if it had merely been the barrier she would probably be headed back to the "muggle" world at this very moment - and she wasn't ready to leave just yet.

"S- Albus, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"There are, occasionally, people born to magical families with no magic power, correct?" Dumbledore nodded, "Well, what do you do to test magical ability when you suspect someone from a magic family isn't, well, magical?"

"An excellent question. Since spontaneous magic will happen to young witches and wizards under extreme stress or other strong emotion - such as fear or anger - I'm afraid most families try to scare or startle the child in hopes it will spark some evidence of magic."

Isabel's eyebrows rose, but she said nothing, afraid anything she said might be offensive.

"Indeed, as a child, one of our fifth year students is said to have been, uh, accidentally dropped out of a window by an uncle who was trying to do that of which I've spoken."

Isabel's mouth dropped in alarm. It was worse than she thought.

"How badly was he hurt?"

"Fortunately, he was not hurt at all. He bounced. But you can see the disadvantages of trying this method on someone who turns out NOT to be possessed of magical ability."

Isabel's voice was grim, "Indeed. I'm sorry, but for my own piece of mind I think I must ask this. Should I expect staff members to sneak up behind me and yell 'Boo!'?"

Dumbledore chuckled, "No. No, indeed. I suspect one or two might be tempted but I can assure you none will."

"Thank the Lord," Isabel said - and she meant it.

"Indeed," Dumbledore murmured with an odd expression on his face. He seemed to be speaking more to himself than Isabel, "Indeed." After a moment he rose saying, 

"It is time to take my leave of you, but I leave you in Madam Pomfrey's capable hands."

As promised, Pomfrey's exam had no sharp objects. In fact, it was rather simple. The nurse made a very close examination of Isabel's hands and eyes. She applied various stones and other objects to the skin on her inner arm and, finally, she took out her wand and touched it to Isabel's head, hand, and heart. She clucked her tongue the whole time, but said nothing.

For her part, Isabel tried to be patient, which became increasingly difficult as more and more things were tried with no discernable effect. When Pomfrey appeared to have finished Isabel couldn't help asking, "Well?"

"You appear to be in good health. I'd say you have a strong spirit to go with your strong will. But," she said with a small sigh, "I can't say anything more or less than that."

"Okay. What does that mean? What's next?"

"That is up to Dumbledore and any of the staff who can think of something helpful. Our History of Magic Professor is doing a little research. I must say, though, that if he couldn't think of anything of the top of his head there probably isn't anything to be thought of."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Professor Binns has committed most known facts of magical history to memory. If he doesn't know a fact already it probably doesn't exist."

"Ah, I see. But wait! What about muggle history? What if some medieval witch detecting methods really worked?"

"Well," Pomfrey said slowly, "I suppose that is possible. Although, I rather doubt it. Still, I will pass the suggestion along."

Isabel opened her mouth to ask another question but was forestalled by a considerable commotion in the corridor. Pomfrey strode over to the door and flung it open to reveal a young student hopping on one foot and howling in what appeared to be agony. Two somewhat older students stood on either side obviously trying to support him between them. They both looked quite relieved at the sight of Madam Pomfrey.

One of the older students, a girl with bright red hair, said, "First year. Leffler, was it? Got caught in a trick stair. Hurt himself trying to wrench his leg free. Think it might be a sprain," she finished a bit breathlessly as she gratefully handed Leffler over to Pomfrey.

"Thank you Miss Weasley, Mr. Longbottom. I shall take it from here." Pomfrey said, as Isabel rose to help Leffler to the nearest bed. As the door swung shut Leffler stopped howling but continued to whimper, instead. He did manage a yell when Pomfrey manipulated his ankle during her exam. Isabel watched closely, eager to see what Pomfrey would do. Isabel was both amazed and disappointed with what followed. 

"You've got a bad sprain and a hairline fracture, Mr. Leffler," Pomfrey informed the hapless student. She then took out her wand and murmured something Isabel was unable to catch as she tapped Leffler's ankle with it. As soon as she did, Leffler stopped whimpering and brightened considerably.

"There you go." Pomfrey said patting him on the arm. She waved her wand again and produced a damp face cloth. She handed this to Leffler saying, "Why don't you wipe your face before you return to class, dear?" Leffler dutifully scrubbed away the tear stains, thanked Madam Pomfrey and hopped down from the bed. He scampered out to the corridor without even a trace of a limp and was gone.

"Wow. I'm beginning to wish you had been _my_ school nurse," Isabel said appreciatively, "When I broke my arm I was in cast for weeks and weeks."

"It was your left arm, wasn't it?"

"Why, yes." Isabel answered, surprised.

"All in all they didn't do a bad job with it."

Isabel looked down at her forearms. _How did she know the left had been broken?_ There didn't appear to be any difference between them. She felt each one with the opposite hand. They didn't feel different, either. _Just how much can she see?_ She wondered.


	6. 6: Harry again

CHAPTER SIX: Harry again

CHAPTER SIX: Harry again 

After her first morning in the hospital wing, Isabel Clay would get an occasional question from a professor, but aside from this was given the run of the school and left primarily to her own devices. With a schedule provided by McGonagall, she began to visit various classes. By the end of a fortnight she was a frequent observer in Care of Magical Creatures and, of all things, Potions. Harry couldn't understand why anyone in their right mind would spend time with Snape in potions if they could avoid it. Yet, there she was eagerly asking Snape questions as he, Ron, and Hermione filed in for double potions with the Slytherins. 

"Blimey, she's back," Ron said jerking his head toward the front of the classroom. 

"I can't figure anyone liking potions that well." Harry hissed back. 

"She does seem rather enthusiastic about the subject," Hermione noted thoughtfully, "I wonder if it has something to do with why she is here." 

"That might explain potions, but what about Magical Creatures? She seems pretty well set on that, too." Ron noted. 

Before Harry could add anything further Snape turned toward the class and said sharply, "If you all are quite through discussing your personal matters it is time to begin." 

With that he turned to the chalkboard and began to write an impossible number of ingredients on it. When finished he clapped his hands sharply to rid them of chalk dust and turned, once again, to the class. "Turn to page Seven Hundred Seventy-Seven. There you will note some interesting properties and dangerous cross reactions of the ingredients I have written on the board. Using that page alone, and confining yourself to some or all of the ingredients on the board you are to concoct a restorative drought." 

There was unhappy murmur in the room which Snape silenced with a swiftly raised hand and a sharp word, "Please do not forget that I am happy to remove points from your houses at will. It may serve you to remember as well that I will be creating and administering your Ordinary Wizarding Level in Potions. If you hold any hope of passing you would do well to apply more attention and less complaint." 

With that he turned his back and returned to his desk. After flipping sharply through some papers, he rose and walked over to the chair in which Isabel Clay sat alongside the wall. She quietly asked him a few questions. He pointed out something to her in Most Potente Potions, gestured at the class, and then returned to his desk. Once he was once again absorbed in papers Ron leaned over toward Harry and whispered, 

"That was almost mild for him. Maybe it is good to have someone observing." 

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. You have been warned." Snape said sharply from his desk as Draco Malfoy sniggered from his table. Hermione looked up at Malfoy when he did this and continued to look at him with a thoughtful expression even after Malfoy had turned his attention back to his textbook. Pulling out her quill Hermione scribbled a note and slid it carefully to Ron and Harry. 

"Am I imagining things or is Snape not as chummy with Malfoy and his gang as he used to be?" 

Ron made a face and shrugged. Harry looked over at Malfoy, who did seem to be applying himself more than ususal. His eyes traveled from Malfoy up to Snape at his desk. If anything Snape was more pale than usual. Suddenly Snape looked up at Harry with is dark, glittering eyes, and Harry quickly turned his attention back to his text to try and figure out which of the ingredients on the board would work in a standard restorative drought. 

As the students began brewing their potions, Snape rose and prowled amongst the desks. Harry noted without satisfaction that he kept to his usual habit of only offering criticism. As he began to approach Neville Longbottom (who trembled visibly at his approach) Isabel Clay rose and made her way to him to ask another question. Instead of lambasting Neville, Snape wound up using his potion to explain something to Clay. In the process he wound up helping a clearly dumbfounded Neville to get his potion right for a change. When Clay moved on to look at other students' work Snape ladled up some of Neville's potion and let it splash back down. It looked perfect and Snape did not look happy. 

Ironically, only Neville, Hermione, and Blaise Zabini - a Slytherin - got it right. Snape had some sharp words for all of them and assigned a rather lengthy essay as punishment. Before he could think of anything else, however, the loud bell signaling the end of class tolled and most of the students, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, scrambled to leave Snape's classroom as quickly as possible. 

As they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, Ron complained loudly about the assignment. "I mean, really, we couldn't be expected to do that without any warning could we?" Hermione wisely said nothing while Harry had other things on his mind. 

Grinning, Harry said, "Did you see the look on Snape's face when Neville's potion turned out right? It was almost worth it just for that." At Ron's incredulous look Harry added, "Well, almost." 

"Well, brace yourselves," Hermione warned grimly, "It sounds like it's only going to get worse. We'll be lucky to pass the Potions O.W.L. if he keeps on like this." 

"Come off it, Hermione. You know that you've got all your O.W.L.s down already." Ron said, perhaps a bit more irritably than he intended. 

"Well, if you actually studied occasionally-" Hermione started her voice betraying some hurt feeling. 

"We've all got our work cut out for us this year," Harry jumped in irritably. He was not in the mood for another pointless spat between Ron and Hermione. The tension between them was more pronounced this term and Harry's patience seemed to be at an all-time low. 

"Say, do you suppose Hagrid's going to show us the new creature he keeps hinting about this afternoon?" Ron asked, shrewdly changing the subject. 

"It sounded as if he might. Anyway it's got to be soon or he'll burst." Harry said his mood brightening. 

"Well, someone's bound to spot it soon if he doesn't. I'm surprised no one has." Hermione said knowledgeably. 

"Oh, know a lot about it, do you?" Ron asked. 

"For your information, Ron, Hagrid has practically already told us what it is if you'd only pay attention." 

Harry rolled his eyes. It seemed Ron and Hermione were determined to pick a fight with one another. Spotting Neville sitting down by Ginny he quickened his pace to join them - leaving Ron and Hermione behind. Neville was regaling a horrified Ginny with the story of their morning potions class. 

"I'll never be ready to take my O.W.L.s next year!" Ginny moaned. 

"Cheer up, Gin," Harry said. "Snape doesn't hate your class the way he does ours." 

"I don't know about that, Harry. Snape seems to have it in for Gryffindors no matter what year they're in." Ginny said shaking her head sadly. 

"Yeah, but his mission in life seems to involve making **me** miserable - he just doesn't mind dragging the rest of my year along for the ride." Harry said with a touch of bitterness. 

At this point Ron and Hermione joined them... pointedly not speaking to each other. Harry caught Ginny's eye and was treated to an expression of disgust from her. Even Neville rolled his eyes. They were saved from an uncomfortable silence by the arrival of the Lee Jordan and the Twins who were chattering loudly about something Fred and George said they were nearly ready to sell. Harry listened with interest. He had secretly given the Twins the thousand Galleons he'd won in the Triwizard Tournament the year before in order to help them start up their dream joke shop.   
  


Soon the Gryffindors were headed down the slope of the castle toward Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. As they drew closer Ron elbowed Harry and hissed, "Look, there she is again!" Sure enough, Isabel Clay was standing beside Hagrid talking to him with quite a bit of animation. For his part, Hagrid seemed absorbed in her every word. He shook his head and turned to face the approaching students as the first of them reached him. When they were all gathered before him he broke into a broad grin. 

"Today's the day we've all been waitin' for!" he said, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Follow me and we'll be meetin' a new creature!" With that, and a grin at Madam Clay, Hagrid turned and set off along the edge of the wood toward the lake. 

"I knew it!" Hermione said once it was clear they were headed for the lake. 

"Knew what?" asked Ron, apparently forgetting they were fighting. 

"You'll see." 

"I think she knows, too." Harry said, looking at Hagrid and Clay exchanging a whispered word and a laugh. It suddenly occurred to Harry that Isabel Clay's interest in The Care of Magical Creatures might have more to do with the teacher than the subject. Before he could suggest this to either Ron or Hermione they were at the lake shore and Hagrid was rummaging through his multi-pocketed coat. Finally with a crow of triumph, he pulled something out of the pocket and threw it into the lake. 

"Was that a packet of Fizzing Whizzbees?" Ron asked incredulously. 

"Dunno." Harry said, confused. 

For her part, Hermione was squinting at the lake with a great deal of interest. 

A moment later, Harry thought Ron must have been right about the Fizzing Whizzbees because the lake was beginning to bubble at about the spot where Hagrid had thrown in whatever it was. But the bubbling got faster and more intense and began to spread. Then the roiling water seemed to part in several places as a very large shiny dark shape emerged. 

"Crimeney!" Ron breathed as several students let out surprised squeals. 

"A Water Horse." Hermione said with satisfaction. 

"Aye!" Hagrid cried with delight as the creature went up and down in undulating waves. "A Kelpie, otherwise known as a Water Horse. But this ain' no ordinary Kelpie, mind. This one's a celebrity." 

"It's not!" Hermione gasped. 

"Oi! Good show, Hagrid!" Harry cried. 

"What? What are you talking about?" Ron said, utterly confused. 

"This Kelpie is formerly of Drummnadrochit, near Inverness." Hagrid said with a gleam in his eye. 

"Wait!" cried Dean Thomas, "Isn't the lake there Loch Ness?" 

Harry wouldn't have thought it possible for Hagrid's grin to grow any wider but it did. 

"Righ' in one!" Hagrid said happily. 

Harry couldn't make out much in the cacophony of sound that followed. It took some time for the class to calm down, after which Hagrid relayed some pertinent facts about Kelpies. The obliging Nessie, whom Hagrid explained was actually a male, swam about on the surface for almost the whole class. When it was time to go to Herbology, the class set off chattering excitedly while Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to Hagrid who was still grinning broadly. 

"How'd you get him, Hagrid?" Ron asked in an awe filled tone which seemed to please Hagrid. 

"The Ministry seemed eager to find him a new home. I think he's gotten too fond o' publicity for their comfort," Hagrid confided, "I thought the surprise was ruint' firs' night, tho'. He surfaced in front o' the firs' year boats, but they was so scared they din' realize wha' he was!" 

Ron turned sharply toward Hermione at this. 

"That's how you knew! They told you about some creature in the lake!" 

Hermione blushed, then smiled, "Well, it did help me figure it out." 

Hagrid looked at the last of their disappearing classmates saying "Go, on wi' you, Don' be late on my account." 

With that the trio sprinted to catch up to the rest of the Gryffindors on their way to the greenhouses. 

"Hagrid seems pretty happy, doesn't he?" Harry said breathlessly to Ron and Hermione when they finally caught up. 

"Are you trying to imply something, Harry?" Hermione asked in a voice that told Harry she knew exactly what he was talking about. 

"Well, he and Madam Clay are awfully chummy, don't you think?" 

"You don't mean?" Ron said, then clapped his hand to his forehead, "Why didn't I see it?" 

Hermione giggled then said, "Well I hope Madam Maxime isn't the jealous type." 

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, "They could be just friends, you don't-" but he was able to say nothing further as Professor Sprout was addressing the class. 

* * * * * 

"Please review me!!!" said the story desperately, "My author gets depressed without feedback!"  
  



	7. 7: McGonagall

CHAPTER SEVEN: McGonagall   
  
CHAPTER SEVEN: McGonagall 

Minerva McGonagall looked up from the stack of parchment on her desk with a sigh. She was unusually preoccupied lately and had little mind for the duties of a professor. Of course, while she was chastising herself for her inattention to the remaining pile of student essays she gave herself little credit for the large pile through which she had already worked. But this was typical for McGonagall. Minerva took most things quite seriously, including troubles and anxieties, of which there were more than enough these days. 

The last school year had ended in tragedy... there was no other word for it. An imposter in their midst had delivered Harry Potter and, unintentionally, Cedric Diggory into the hands of the servant of Lord Voldemort. Cedric had been killed by Voldemort whose servant used Harry's blood as part of a spell to return Voldemort to his body. Voldemort had very nearly killed young Harry Potter as well. 

As if all this weren't bad enough, the Minister of Magic refused to accept the truth of what had happened and so Dumbledore and those who were willing to accept the truth were on their own to try and fight back another dark night; a night like the one that had ended fifteen years before when Voldemort tried to murder a fifteen month-old Harry Potter and found his curse rebounded back onto himself. 

In the midst of all this they were trying to educate young witches and wizards as normally as possible ...even though some of them were doubtless watching everything they did so that they might tell their Death Eater parents all that went on here. After Harry had escaped The Dark Lord, he had named several of the Death Eaters who had gathered at Voldemort's side and far too many were the mothers and fathers of Hogwarts students. This, she reasoned, was why Dumbledore didn't want the students to know that Isabel Clay was a muggle... or why she was at Hogwarts. 

Truthfully, McGonagall was no longer sure why the young woman was here. They seemed no closer to discovering why she had been able to penetrate the barrier at King's Cross than they had a fortnight before. She was beginning to think it was just a fluke, that they would never figure it out. 

McGonagall was concerned about Isabel. Some of those students whose parents were death eaters had an extreme dislike of muggles as well as a hunger to prove themselves to their parents... A year ago she would never have dreamed it possible that such thoughts would occur to her, but now she worried Isabel Clay would not be safe if it became known among the students that she was a muggle. The longer she was here, the greater the chance of that happening. 

McGonagall rested her forehead in her hand and sighed yet again. If she let herself, she could chase worries for hours... Just when it seemed they had all they could handle, more worries presented themselves. 

"Troubled, Minerva?" 

McGonagall jumped and looked up to see the familiar form of Albus Dumbledore standing in the doorway. 

"Albus! You gave me such a start." 

"I can see that. Perhaps you'll accept my apologies over a cup of cocoa?" 

A smile pulled at the corner of McGonagall's mouth. Albus and his late night cocoa excursions... some things did remain blessedly the same. Some things, however, did change. It would have been her normal inclination to politely decline pointing to the work yet to be done. But she did not. Instead, she rose. 

"I would be delighted." 

Shortly thereafter the two sat at the end of the Staff table in the deserted Great Hall. 

"So," Dumbledore said gazing at McGonagall over the rim of his cup, "What is worrying you old friend?" 

"What isn't these days?" McGonagall asked bleakly. 

"Indeed, there is much-" Dumbledore's grave voice trailed off and he took a sip of cocoa. McGonagall did the same. 

"Some days I don't think I can face it again." McGonagall confessed staring rather intently at the surface of her cocoa. She was surprised to feel Dumbledore's hand on her own. 

"I understand all too well," he said. Then as she looked up and met his eye, "Still, I think we are less equipped to stand idle knowing the alternative we would face." 

McGonagall nodded, blinking hard. She was seeing the face of Cedric, and of James and Lily and Frank and Muriel. Yet, even as she struggled to master her tears, the image of these faces seemed to steel her resolve. Dumbledore was right, much though she dreaded what was to come she was incapable of doing nothing at all and risking more innocent lives. 

"Was that what was on your mind when I walked in or was it more specific?" Dumbledore asked. 

McGonagall took a deep breath and felt much better for it. 

"I was thinking about the situation with Isabel Clay." 

"I welcome your thoughts on that, Minerva." 

"I am, of course, concerned that the longer she remains here the greater the chance of the students learning she is a muggle, and these days that possibility makes me anxious." Dumbledore nodded but said nothing. McGonagall continued, "It doesn't seem that we are very much closer to discovering how she penetrated the barrier. I'm beginning to doubt that we will. Albus, it may be time to send her back." 

"Minerva, I appreciate your concerns. Rest assured Isabel's safety is being looked after. As for the rest, I think it will become apparent in time. It would, therefore be unfortunate to send her away before that time arrives. Have faith, Minerva. Have faith." 

****** 

"Well," the story said, "My author does like McGonagall and she needed to establish one or two things and do a little foreshadowing. Besides, both the author and I thought you deserved a little quiet interlude before we raise your blood pressure in the next chapter. Hee hee. OK, now write something in the review box or my author will get depressed again. Thanks" 


	8. eight: Harry and Co.

CHAPTER EIGHT: Harry   
CHAPTER EIGHT: Harry 

Ron and Harry sat on opposite sides of a table in the Gryffindor common room a mass of divination notes, charts, and texts scattered about them. 

"Do you really think we'll have to know this stuff for the O.W.Ls?" Ron said with a touch of desperation. 

"Dunno," Harry replied, "Too soon to say, I think. I guess it's too late to switch to another course of study and still hope to pass an O.W.L. in it." 

Ron snorted, "Trust me, if we did nothing in Divination from now until Spring we'd still do better on the Divination O.W.L. than we would on Arithmancy. Although, you'd have a decent shot at Muggle Studies. You ought to think about switching." 

"No thanks," said Harry glumly. The muggle world was not something he liked to spend much time thinking about since, for him, the muggle world meant Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon Dursley and their hideous bully of a son, his cousin Dudley. The Dursleys had applied themselves to making Harry miserable with a singular devotion. After all the things that happened last year, spending a summer with them had been particularly difficult. No, it was better to focus on his studies... no bad memories there. He picked up a star chart. 

"So, how can we remember the stuff about Mars... I've got a premonition that Trelawney will be devoting some focus to the red planet this year." he said in his best misty-voiced imitation of the Divination Teacher whom he, Ron, and not a few others considered 90% smoke and mirror and 10% real talent (at best). 

Ron snorted but was prevented from comment by Hermione bursting through the portrait hole and rushing over to them. 

"I've got it, I've got it!" 

"Got what? Can you begin at the beginning for once?" Ron said, exasperated. 

Hermione shot him a look, but was clearly too excited by whatever it was she had "got" to let him draw her into a quarrel. Instead she sat down and leaned forward speaking in a low voice. 

"I figured out who... or rather what Isabel Clay is. Although I still have no idea why she's here." Hermione paused, breathlessly, surveying Ron and Harry with some satisfaction. 

"Well?" Harry asked impatiently. 

"I was just in the library," Hermione said (as Ron mouthed "where else?"), "Madam Clay was there, too. I see her there a lot browsing books and such. Well, she was reading _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ and I swear she was practically biting her fist not to laugh out loud. Now, I know some of the stuff in there is a bit, well, inaccurate, but I never found it funny." 

"Hermione," Ron said trying to sound patient, "What does this have to do with anything?" 

"I'm getting there! Honestly, Ron- Anyway, It just sort of hit me. The only people who find that book amusing are, well, muggle-borns and muggles." 

"So you're saying the big discovery is that she is muggle born?" Harry asked confused. 

"No!' Hermione said impatiently, leaning in and lowering her voice still further to whisper, "She's a muggle!" 

Ron looked skeptical. Harry scowled and said, "Here? Why? That doesn't fit." 

"Yes it does, Harry! Think about it! We all agree she's clearly British but she knows nothing about Hogwarts," here she held up her hand to stop Ron's protest, "I know you thought maybe she went to school somewhere else. If she did, why doesn't she seem to know anything about potions? Really, why would she bother observing so many classes or studying in the library? Have you noticed that the only classes she hasn't been to more than once are Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts?" 

"Okay, I see your point," Harry conceded, "And it would explain some other stuff like why she didn't gawp at my scar or know who I was. But why would she be here? And why all the secrecy?" 

"Well the secrecy is obvious," Hermione said looking around, "Dumbledore doesn't want Malfoy's father and some of the other Slytherin parents to get wind of what he's up to." 

"Which is?" Ron asked, sarcastically.

"That I don't know. I'm more convinced than ever, though, that Dumbledore has her here because she can help somehow against Vol- Voldemort." 

Ron winced slightly at the use of Voldemort's name but said nothing. Harry was impressed. He'd never heard Hermione say Voldemort's name. But he was still confused. With a great deal of luck, some help, and a powerful wand, not to mention magical ability he had barely escaped Voldemort with his life. What chance did a muggle have against the most powerful Dark Wizard in a century? 

"I don't know Hermione, I mean, you could be right but I still think it's a bit of a leap," Harry said after a moment. 

"I agree with Harry." Ron said, "Lots of people find that book funny... at least people with a sense of humor." 

Hermione shot Ron a poisonous look. Harry forestalled any response by voicing his other concern, "Besides, if wizards like Dumbledore and the entire ministry can't stop Voldemort what could a muggle do?" 

"Yeah," Ron said furrowing his brow, " even IF she is a muggle, how could a muggle help?" 

"That's an excellent question," Hermione said with a determined look, "I bet the answer is interesting."  


*** Ok, please don't forget to write a reveiw... even if you wait until the end of next chapter. Thanks. ***   



	9. nine: Isabel once more

CHAPTER NINE: Isabel and Hagrid

CHAPTER NINE: Isabel and Hagrid 

They stood at the edge of the wood watching the stars' reflections in the lake wink and blink with the movement of the water. There was a splash and a dark form began rising out of and then dipping joyfully back into the water. It was the Kelpie. The students had taken to calling him "Nestor" once Hagrid had told them "Nessie" was actually a male. 

"You know," Hagrid said, his eyes on the creature, "I don' think Nestor was after publicity like the ministry thought. I think he jus' likes to surface and dive." 

Isabel smiled, "I think you've got something there. He certainly does seem to be enjoying himself here. Will he get to stay?" 

"Probably, if things continue to go well." 

"Well, then I hope they do." Isabel said smiling. To her very great surprise, she was beginning to realize just how much she liked this giant of a man. His combination of gruffness and gentleness, his enthusiasm, even his alarming attraction to large and dangerous beasts had charmed her in an unexpected, even unfathomable way. One thing was certain, she liked the way he jumped into life with both feet.

Hagrid had colored and was shifting from foot to foot. 

"Isabel, there's somethin' I'd like to tell ye." he said, blushing even more furiously, "I, er, I enjoy spending time with yuh, you know. And well- well- I know I'm ..." Hagrid stammered a bit and trailed off. 

Isabel wasn't sure what Hagrid was trying to say... but she had some idea. She liked him. She so enjoyed spending time with him that she found herself wandering down the hillside more and more often. But did he want more than friendship? Was that even a good idea? After all, he was a part of this magical world... a world she would have to leave sooner or later. Then there was the age thing... It was probably best to just stay friends. Yes, it was probably best... 

Isabel took a deep breath. "I like spending time with you, as well," she began, "In fact, well, the fact is that I like you very much, Rubeus but-" 

This was the point at which she was going to say something about friendship. The words, however, stuck in her throat. She couldn't do it. She couldn't bear the possibility that she would hurt him with the standard "just friends" speech. At a loss, she said nothing. 

The silence sat between them for a few moments. Finally, Hagrid broke it, 

"Good, then," he said a bit awkwardly, "So, er- lets see where Nestor has got to, eh?" 

Isabel nodded and walked along beside Hagrid as they circled the lake. Although they seemed an unlikely pair, that was probably why she liked him. She knew she tended to over-think things, whereas Hagrid - well he did not. It was hard to imagine that a relatively short time ago she was in an ordinary train station preparing to take an ordinary train to an ordinary place where she hoped to begin sorting out her ordinary life. Now she was walking along the shore of a lake containing the Loch Ness Monster and a giant squid with a very large gruff man who was half-giant, half-wizard. Whoever coined the phrase "God's mysterious ways" didn't know just how right they were! 

Although the hour was late and very few lights were now shining from the distant castle, Isabel felt very awake as she and Hagrid walked companionably together. As she watched Hagrid's bouncing step she suspected he did, too. _We could probably walk contentedly around the grounds all night_, she thought when she suddenly felt her stomach contract as a sensation of clinging cold washed over her. Hagrid had stopped dead and was looking, horror struck, across the surface of the lake. 

Isabel followed Hagrid's gaze and noticed that Nestor was gone and that a fog was obscuring the lake as it rolled across the surface toward them. But Hagrid wasn't watching the fog. Isabel could see he was looking at the far surface of the lake and, for the first time since they had met, she could see fear in his eyes. 

"Rubeus, what is it? What's wrong? Is it Nestor?" 

"Dementors." he said without turning or moving his eyes from the opposite shore. 

"What?" Isabel said completely confused. Hagrid did not respond. He stood as if turned to stone his eyes locked on the lake. Isabel could feel a fearful cold gripping her as the fog rolled closer. But it was not this that truly frightened her... Hagrid's motionless, frightened form was what caused a feeling of panic to creep into her veins. 

She hadn't thought anything could scare Hagrid... No! she didn't want to contemplate the nature of whatever it was... she wanted to run or fight or do something...! 

"What do we need to do? Rubeus! What do we need to do?" Isabel asked urgently, scanning the opposite shore trying to see what was coming. 

"Tell Dumbledore. We've got ...to tell ....Dumbledore ... quickly." Hagrid said almost mechanically, but by now he was shaking - although his legs were still rooted to the ground. Isabel pulled on his arm to no effect, looking around desperately searching for some help, some answer. She was too frightened of what was coming to leave him, but she knew they needed help. As the sensation of coldness grew and the fog curled around their feet, Isabel felt herself torn between the two options, unable to make a decision. 

Then she caught sight of a crowd of indistinct shadowy figures gliding ever closer to them on the surface of the lake. She could tell they were close, but had a great deal of trouble making them out, it was as if they were almost invisible to her. It was more movement than solid matter that she saw. As she stared, transfixed, she heard a dull thud beside her and turned to see Hagrid had collapsed, unconscious. 

"Rubeus!" She cried in alarm as the miserable cold grew all around her. Unbidden memories, dark difficult memories came to mind. For a moment Isabel felt herself balanced on a thin edge. She could feel herself falling toward despair but, as she did, something in her sparked. As the memories surrounded her, Isabel suddenly felt anger, a cold sharp anger rapidly building to rage. All of the anger and fear she had ever felt in her life seemed to coalesce as pure rage sang through her veins. She would not stand helpless in the face of this... whatever it was. 

The indistinct figures were upon them now, spreading as if to circle her and the unconscious Hagrid. Dementeds, Demons, whatever they were she was not going to cower by Hagrid's side and let them harm them. She stood up with an inarticulate cry of rage and began to charge toward the figures, to try and drive them away from Hagrid. 

She still could not make them out clearly but she knew where they were and she knew they meant them harm. That was all she needed to see, to know. She was not thinking. She was fury, she was vengeance, she was rage. As she ran forward the wavering line of figures stopped moving. There seemed to be some confused movement and then they were circling her. Isabel noted, with an odd detachment, that she didn't feel fear, or even anger anymore, she felt power. She knew she had carried with her from her own world what she needed to fight these phantoms of the magical one. Again she shouted at them and moved toward the nearest one. The indistinct figures began to move about in a confused fashion and then to back away. 

She heard several sets of footsteps pounding toward her from behind but dared not take her eyes off what she could make out of the creatures. As she watched them moving in confustion there was a sudden sound of moving air and several beams of silvery light shot around her at the line of Dementors who began to move very quickly away, pulling the mysterious fog up behind them. Isabel stood, frozen, fists clenched, and watched their retreat until she could no longer make out the movement of the figures. She could only see the receding fog dissolving into the night. 

Only then did she whirl to see who had come up behind her. Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall were moving toward her and Hagrid. Isabel moved quickly back to the figure on the ground calling out, "It's Hagrid, he needs help!" All at once the feelings of anger and courage and confidence seemed to pour away from her and she felt her knees grow weak and buckle. 

She felt a set of hands catch her from behind and ease her to the ground as she watched Dumbledore and McGonagall bending to examine Hagrid who, to Isabel's great relief, began to stir a bit. Snape, with a look of pure bafflement at Isabel, moved from behind her to join them. As she watched the three helped a very dazed-looking Hagrid to sit up and Isabel let out the breath she hadn't known she had been holding. 

With some help from their wands, the three helped Hagrid to his feet and McGonagall came to Isabel. "Can you walk, dear?" she asked, concerned. 

"Um, yes, I'm just a little shaky is all." Isabel stammered out. 

She felt McGonagall taking her arm and helping her up as she murmured "No wonder, too. Foul creatures!" 

Snape and Dumbledore were walking on either side of Hagrid with their wands pointed at him as McGonagall kept a firm hold on Isabel and turned to follow them toward the castle. 

"Did you see them?" Isabel asked, "What were they?" 

"They were Dementors," McGonagall said grimly, "And they should never have been here. But hush, Isabel, lets just get to the castle." Isabel did as she was told walking with leaden steps up the hill. She knew that she was alright physically. Those "Dementor" things hadn't touched her, but she felt a bit numb and weak with shock and confusion. Since that day at King's Cross, Isabel had not encountered anything malevolent in the magical world. She realized that she'd begun to think of the magical world as some sort of "happily-ever-after" land. But one look at the grim faces of the three Professors told her she had been very, very much mistaken. 

_(Author's Note: Hagrid/Maxime fans: remember this is fanfiction. Rowling can stick with Maxime if she wants to but, personally, I think the big guy deserves better! Besides, they aren't exactly getting together, now, are they?)_

_"Now review me, please_!" said the story, _"My author has a dreadful addiction to reviews_."


	10. ten: Harry

CHAPTER TEN: Harry   
CHAPTER TEN: Harry 

Harry sat up suddenly in bed his hand to his forehead. His scar was burning as if it were made of white-hot wire, and the pain wasn't fading. Harry knew what this meant: Voldemort. Voldemort was either nearby, feeling a strong surge of hatred, or trying to harm someone. Harry's stomach lurched. He didn't know how or why, but he suddenly knew it was the last one. Someone nearby was in danger. He tumbled out of bed fumbling to push feet into shoes and pull on his robes over his pyjamas. 

"Ron! Ron! Wake Up!" he hissed urgently, shaking his friend. Ron turned over and cocked a sleepy eye toward Harry. Harry's alarm must have shown in his face for, suddenly, Ron was sitting up and moving quickly out of bed. 

"What is it, what's wrong?" 

"Someone's in danger, I can feel it!" 

Ron's eyes widened but he did not ask Harry how he knew, he merely bent to shove his feet into shoes as Harry handed him his robes and they hurried out of the room. 

"Who? Who's in danger?" 

"I don't know," Harry said tensely as they rushed down the stairs. "Voldemort is trying to hurt someone nearby." 

Ron went pale, "You-Know-Who is here?" 

Harry rubbed his scar, he wished it would stop burning. "I don't think so, not in person" 

As they ran into the common room there was a slight commotion. Harry was grateful to see Hermione rushing out from behind a table piled with books and parchment. Concern was written across her face. 

"What's wrong?" she asked tensely 

"Someone's in danger. Come on, just follow me!" Harry said leading the way toward the portrait hole. Harry moved down the corridor taking his direction from instinct alone. As they approached an open window Harry felt a particularly icy wind move against his flushed face and stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that feeling... There was a very faint shout from far below and Harry turned and went to the window, Ron and Hermione crowding on either side of him. 

They could just see the near side of the lake. It was covered in an unnatural fog and two figures on the shore were being harassed by a large group of ... Dementors. Harry's stomach lurched again and, for a moment, he felt his nerve might fail him. 

"Comeon, we've got to help!" Ron urged pulling at Harry whose knuckles were white with gripping the window ledge. 

"Harry, it's okay, you can do it! You've done it before and we'll be there to help!" Hermione said desperately. Harry's eyes strayed toward the figures on the shore and he shook himself. His friends were right, they had to do something! He turned and rushed forward with Ron and Hermione at his side. When the breathless trio finally made it to the Entrance Hall they saw the large Oak doors were already standing open. They pelted through them and down the stone steps. As they reached the bottom a strange sight stopped them in their tracks. 

At first, Harry couldn't quite make out what the uneven thing moving toward them in the darkness was. Hermione could, however. "Hagrid!" She cried in alarm moving forward past a confused Harry. Harry looked harder and saw that Hagrid was being supported between Snape and Dumbledore who were using their wands to help him move. Not far behind, Professor McGonagall was helping Isabel Clay walk toward the castle as well. He looked past them toward the lake. It's surface once again reflected starlight and moon. The Dementors were gone. 

Dumbledore had held up a hand to warn Hermione back and she moved back up toward Ron and Harry. As the odd group moved into the light cast by the open doors, Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned and rushed back up the stairs to hold the doors open wide for the four to pass through. When they had shut the doors they silently followed the group up to the hospital wing. The professors neither forbade nor encouraged them. 

Dumbledore and Snape eased a still dazed Hagrid down to sit on a bed. McGonagall sat Isabel Clay down on the one beside him as Madam Pomfrey came rushing out. 

"What is it?" She said sharply. 

"Dementors," Dumbledore said, a dangerous edge to his voice, "Quite a number. Hagrid lost consciousness." 

Pomfrey's alarm showed in her face, but not in her manner. She took in the sight of Isabel being assisted by McGonagall and asked,"Ms. Clay lost consciousness as well, then?" 

"No, she did not." McGonagall replied. 

Pomfrey stopped dead for a split second before turning to go back to her office for what Harry had no doubt would be a large block of chocolate. For his part, Harry had started a bit at the news that Clay had not lost consciousness. So, had Ron and Hermione. 

Dumbledore looked grim. Snape also looked quite severe, but also confused. McGonagall was a bit pale and had begun pacing sharply as soon as she helped Isabel to sit on the edge of a bed. When Harry, Ron and Hermione reacted to the fact that Clay had not fainted she suddenly turned toward them as if noticing them for the first time. 

"Mr Weasley, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, What were you doing out of bed and out of the castle at this hour!" 

At McGonagall's questions Harry's hand unconsciously moved to touch his scar. The burning had stopped it was only prickling painfully now. Ron and Hermione looked at Harry as if willing him to be able to explain it. 

To Harry's great surprise it was Snape who spoke up, "The scar." 

Harry nodded, too stunned to actually speak. 

As Pomfrey came back with chocolate, the best remedy for post-Dementor shock, Dumbledore motioned for everyone to take a seat. He, however, paced back and forth in a measured fashion. Finally, he turned to Harry. 

"When did your scar pain you, Harry?" 

"Not long before we ran into you," Harry answered, "It woke me up and I just -knew- someone was in danger. How did I know that?" 

Dumbledore didn't answer but turned, instead, to a more alert but somewhat abashed Hagrid and Isabel (who was looking mutinously at the chocolate in her hand but not eating). 

"Madam Clay, do you feel up to telling us what happened?" 

At this, Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth indignantly, no doubt to protest Dumbledore's questioning her patients when they needed rest. She apparently thought the better of it (no doubt from long experience) and closed her mouth again. She turned sharply and walked to her office in a huff. 

With a glance at Pomfrey's retreating back, Isabel set her chocolate on the bedside table. 

"We were along the lakeshore watching Nestor when a fog rolled across the lake. I could never really make them out, but there was something - some sort of creatures in the fog. It was like they were aiming a sort of coldness at us, especially Rubeus. It was like they were attacking him without touching him. After he lost consciousness, I began to remember a lot of things I hadn't thought of in a long time..." Isabel trailed off here. Harry knew exactly the sort of things she was talking about. 

"Unpleasant memories," Dumbledore said, more than asked. 

"Yes." 

"When you remembered these things what happened?" he asked. 

"It was so strange, for a moment I felt as if I would just get lost in despair but then, all of a sudden, I was filled with incredible anger, indignation. Without thinking I just stood up and moved toward the, er, Dementors you call them? It seemed to me that they backed off a bit but then they started for us again, that's when you came." 

Snape and McGonagall were listening intently. Dumbledore was nodding. 

"If you don't mind, Isabel," he said, "Could you tell me which unpleasant memory you now remember most clearly as having come to you?" 

Isabel's eyes brightened and she studied the bedcover upon which she was sitting for a moment before answering. I don't think I really can. It really wasn't one memory specifically. At first all I could feel was the feelings, but suddenly how I felt about the feelings... the anger over what I've seen people do... as a child... I..." Isabel trailed off. 

"Ah. Righteous indignation. Was that all that was on your mind when you stood up to face the Dementors?" 

"Yes, But I also remembered something - you wouldn't understand I think-" she trailed off. 

"Please, allow us to try." 

Isabel sighed. "I remembered what they taught me in Church School when I was little... before my parents died... that with God on our side we need not fear any evil." Both Snape and McGonagall looked faintly surprised. Ron's face was blank, and Hermione's was screwed up as if she were trying to figure out how this all fit together. 

Dumbledore was smiling. "Ah, indeed. Thank you." He turned toward the group seated along the wall, "If Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, and Mr. Potter are feeling quite up to it, I would suggest you return to your dormitories and attempt to get some sleep. Severus, Minerva, I think that we have learned what we can tonight so you may wish to follow suit." 

They all rose and moved toward the door, Ron and Hermione looking back at Hagrid. Harry, however, found himself hanging back. Dumbledore waved Ron and Hermione on and waited for the door to shut. 

"Harry do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Harry shook his head. 

"Something on your mind, then?" Dumbledore asked gently. 

"Do you think Voldemort sent the Dementors?" 

"It certainly seems possible." 

"Why?" 

"That I cannot answer." 

Harry paused. He wanted Dumbledore to tell him that everything would be alright. But Harry knew that Dumbledore couldn't do that, and he felt mildly ashamed of wanting it. 

"Will, Hagrid be alright?" Harry said, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway. 

"Yes, Hagrid will be fine, Harry. Why don't you say goodnight to him?" 

Dumbledore walked Harry over to the beds where Hagrid and Isabel were sitting. 

"I'm glad to see you looking better, Rubeus," He said to Hagrid, "I insist that you take the morning off. As for you, Madam Clay, I urge you to eat that chocolate, it will help. Good night." 

With that, Dumbledore turned and was gone. 

Harry smiled at Hagrid who smiled sheepishly back. 

"Never done tha' afore." Hagrid said color rising in his face. 

Harry remembered the feeling of shame he had in his third year, before he'd learned to deal with Dementors, when they caused him to lose consciousness. He rushed to re-assure Hagrid. 

"Did you ever have a whole crowd of them going for you before?" 

Hagrid shook his head then said softly, "Ruddy awful, them Dementors." 

"Yes they are." Harry said emphatically 

"What, exactly, are they?" Isabel asked from behind Hagrid. 

"They are dark creatures, they infest foul places and make everyone around them miserable by sucking away all good feelings and forcing them to re-live bad memories." Harry said flatly. "They're very powerful. They can rob a wizard of their powers if he's left with them long enough." Harry paused, then said thoughtfully, "Muggles aren't supposed to be able to see them, though. You're, er, **they're** just supposed to feel depressed for no particular reason." 

Harry suddenly realized that he'd as good as called Madam Clay a muggle. 

"Well, good night." Harry added quickly, anxious to cover up his slip. After all, they didn't know for sure that Isabel Clay was a muggle. He headed for the door. Just before opening it he turned back and addressed Isabel. " They're right about the chocolate," he said and then he was gone. 

When he got back to the Gryffindor common room Ron and Hermione were waiting for him. "Is Hagrid alright?" Ron asked. 

"A bit embarrassed is all, they'll both be okay." 

"Good." 

"Harry," Hermione broke in excitedly, "we overheard McGonagall and Snape talking... we didn't mean to of course-" 

"Anyway," Ron interrupted, "They were saying they thought the Dementors would have given Hagrid the kiss if Clay hadn't held them off." 

Harry blanched. He hadn't thought of that. The Dementor's kiss was the most horrible thing a Dementor could do. They would "kiss" the victim, sucking the soul out and leaving them an empty, soul-less shell. The thought of that happening to Hagrid was, well, unimaginable. 

"Dumbledore said he reckoned Voldemort sent them but he doesn't know why." 

Ron's eyes widened, "But that means-" 

"-they've joined Voldemort. If Azkaban Prison isn't already unguarded, it will be soon." Hermione filled in, her voice grave. 

Harry felt a thrill of horror and dread. He was certain Hermione was right and the implications... 

Just then the portrait hole swung open to admit McGonagall. 

"Professor!" Hermione exclaimed, "Has Dumbledore contacted the ministry to tell them the Dementors have turned-" Hermione began but was halted by McGonagall's hand. 

"Yes, Miss Granger, that has been done." 

"If Fudge will listen," Harry muttered. 

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. Yet that is not a matter with which you need concern yourselves. It has been a long night for all of us and it is time for the three of you to get to bed. Go." She waited until all three disappeared on the staircase before disappearing back through the portrait hole. Once in the corridor she permitted herself a deep sigh before making her own weary way to bed. 


	11. eleven: Harry again

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Harry again.

  


CHAPTER ELEVEN: Harry again. 

Harry didn't sleep very well the rest of the night. There was too much on his mind and the lingering dread of awakening with his scar burning kept him restless until shortly before dawn. Fortunately, the next day was Saturday and no one tried to awaken him until lunch time. Harry, Ron, and Hermione found a place at the end of the Gryffindor table, away from the ears of the other students. But none of them found themselves much in the mood for talking, so lunch passed in silence. 

Afterward Harry told Ron and Hermione he'd catch up with them later and headed for a part of the castle to which he had been only infrequently: Dumbledore's office. Soon he found himself facing the stone gargoyle which guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office and realized he didn't have the password. He was pretty sure the ones he had known in the past, "Lemon Drops" & "Cockroach Cluster," would not work. Harry named several sweets, including "acid pops" and "levitating sherbet balls" to no avail. Finally, his mind hit upon the last Care of Magical Creatures lesson. "Fizzing Whizzbees?" he said and jumped back as the gargoyle slid aside. He entered and stepped on the spiral staircase which moved on its own and carried him to Dumbledore's office door. 

Harry knocked tentatively and was relieved to hear Dumbledore call "Come." 

"Ah, Harry. Have a seat." he said when he looked up. 

Harry slid into one of the seats in front of Dumbledore's desk. Now that he was here he wasn't sure what to say or ask. Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him and waited patiently. 

Finally, Harry stammered, "About last night, sir. Have you thought any more of what the Dementors were after?" 

Dumbledore paused, "I don't think we can know that with any certainty, Harry. I suspect, however, that the Dementors were sent to see how difficult it would be to penetrate our campus. I do not, however, think they were sent for you." 

"Oh, no, I didn't think that. At least not seriously. I guess I wondered why they went after Hagrid." 

"It is possible they specifically targeted Hagrid, although it seems more likely that Hagrid was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time." 

Harry thought about this for a moment then cleared his throat, asking, 

"This means Azkaban is unguarded, doesn't it.?" 

"It is or will be soon." 

"Sir?" Harry asked, "Did Madam Clay not lose consciousness because she's a muggle?" 

Dumbledore looked surprised, but only mildly so. 

"I don't believe so. Here a muggle should be affected in much the same way as a wizard." 

Harry nodded but said nothing, waiting. 

"Who, besides yourself, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, is aware of the fact that Isabel Clay is a muggle?" 

"No one that I know of." 

"And you discovered this, how?" 

"We've suspected it for a while now. But we weren't sure-" 

"Until just now, I suppose." Dumbledore interrupted with a wry twinkle in his eye. 

"Well, yes. But we figured that you didn't want the students to know and we haven't told anyone. Honestly." 

"Of course. I expected that some observant students would eventually grow suspicious. I had hoped to forestall that, but no matter. Harry, I appreciate you and your friends not telling your fellow students, and would ask that if you hear of any of them knowing about Madam Clay you would tell me." 

"Yes. Sure. Can, er, may I ask about why she is here?" 

"You may ask, but there isn't much I can tell you right now. When the time is right you will know." 

"_When the time is right you will know_." How many times had Harry heard that? Still, there was a finality in Dumbledore's tone and Harry knew it was best not to protest. Instead he realized it was time he took his leave. 

He hadn't gone very far down the corridor away from Dumbledore's office when he sat down upon the plinth of a suit of armor with a sigh. 

What, exactly, had he gone to Dumbledore for? What did he want him to say? Did he want him to say everything would be alright? Did he want him to say Voldemort wasn't after him? Harry doubted it. He knew Dumbledore couldn't honestly tell him either of those things. What did he want then? 

He thought about Hagrid and the Dementors... but Hagrid would be alright - so would Madam Clay. Madam Clay. She had held the Dementors off. Harry had driven back a group of dementors once, as well. But, truth be told, he wasn't sure he could do it again. He wasn't sure of much, come to that. 

He had begun the school year before this feeling fairly confident he could face just about anything. After all, before his fourth year he had twice faced Voldemort and prevailed. But it had been a close call both times. Plus, both of those times Voldemort hadn't been at full strength. Harry's mind returned to the scene in the graveyard, the helplessness, the horror of seeing Voldemort rise again not being able to do anything about it... of escaping only by the merest chance that his and Voldemort's wands would not work properly against one another... 

Suddenly he realized what he wanted Dumbledore to tell him. He also realized he couldn't bring himself to ask: "Will **I** be alright? Can I handle what is to come?" 

Harry got up and began to walk as he brooded on this realization. He tried to reason with himself that the third and last time he had faced Voldemort, the evil wizard had been at full strength - wand problem or no - and he had STILL escaped. But that thought kept giving way to the memories of the confrontation in the graveyard, of Cedric's dead face, of the menacing circle of death eaters... Now that Voldemorts supporters... and the Dementors... had returned to his side Harry was anxious he was over-matched. If he faced Voldemort again, Harry feared the evil wizard would win at last. 

Still, even when Voldemort was at the height of his powers Hogwarts had been safe. He had heard Hagrid say, "I'm not worried so long as we have Dumbledore" and his godfather Sirius Black had said many times he was safe under Dumbledore's protection. But Harry couldn't stay here forever. A colder, more frightening thought crept, unbidden, into the corner of his mind: _And Even Dumbledore can't live forever_. 

This stopped Harry in his tracks and he repressed a shudder. It was then he noticed he was on the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall. He caught sight of the large front doors he Ron and Hermione had held open the night before and decided to go down and check on Hagrid. Harry squinted as he stepped into the bright sunlight and a soft breeze ruffled his hair. It was a gorgeous day... nature seemed to have no idea of the turmoil in his world. With a sigh he set off down the hill toward Hagrid's cabin at the edge of the wood. 

Hermione answered his knock, apparently she and Ron had the same idea. Harry thought he saw a look of relief cross her face when she answered the door and saw him, but he couldn't be sure. Anyway, he was more worried about Hagrid. For his part Hagrid seemed back to his old self. He sat at his table with an overlarge cup of tea and a plate of rock cakes. While Ron and Hermione had clearly been sharing the tea Harry noticed they had not touched Hagrid's rock cakes - which lived up to their name. Fang, Hagrid's large boarhound, sat with his head in Hagrid's lap slobbering happily all over his master. 

"'Arry!" Hagrid cried cheerfully, "Come in and have a cuppa!" 

Harry smiled and did just that. For a while it was like old times, the three of them chatting with Hagrid in his cabin. After a while Harry couldn't help saying, 

"I'm glad you're alright, Hagrid." 

Hagrid blushed and his eyes grew bright, "I don' deserve friends like you three. Never had folks worry over me so." Harry smiled but also looked down not knowing quite what to say. Ron, also was at a loss for words. Hermione, however, was not at such a loss. 

"You do deserve it, Hagrid. We're lucky to have you, too." 

_Good thing she's a girl_, Harry thought, _at least they know what to say when it gets emotional_. Further thoughts were forestalled as Hagrid swept all three of them into a bone-crushing bear hug. Harry was just beginning to see stars when, thankfully, Hagrid let them go. Once released, Ron, Hermione, and Harry, tried to rub feeling back into their limbs without being too obvious. 

"Well, who wants to go check on Nestor?" Hagrid said rising, "Ah wan' to make sure he's alrigh' after runnin' into the Dementors." 

"Sure" Harry and Ron said together and Hermione nodded. 

As they set off she said, "Nestor ought to be alright, oughtn't he? I mean the Dementors have crossed the lake before and it hasn't hurt the Giant Squid, has it?" 

"No, but I wanna' be sure, jus' the same." Hagrid said 

He needn't have worried. As they came around a bend of the woods and caught sight of the lake they could see someone standing on the shore flinging something out to Nestor who was gamely, but unsuccessfully, trying to catch whatever it was. 

"Isabel!" Hagrid said as they drew closer. Sure enough, it was her and she was winging slices of bread out to the Kelpie. She stopped and turned at the sound of her name and, catching sight of Hagrid, came forward to meet them. Seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione she stopped a bit short and blushed. 

"Looks like we had the same idea, about Nestor, I mean," she said.

"He looks alrigh'" Hagrid said nodding out toward the water. 

"None the worse for wear, as they say." 

"Yup." 

They both sifted uncomfortably for a moment until Hermione suddenly said, "Ron, Harry, why don't we finish tossing out that bread?" Then more pointedly, "Shall we?" 

"Oh, right, yeah. Maybe we can get him to catch a slice, Comon Harry." Ron replied pulling on Harry's arm. As he followed Ron, Harry just caught Hagrid saying, "You weren't in hospital this morning." 

Harry looked glanced back over his shoulder and saw Isabel Clay speaking earnestly to Hagrid. When he got caught up with Hermione she, too, was looking back with bright eyes and a strange smile. 

"I'm so happy for him." she said. Harry nodded silently then noticed Ron looking at Hermione with an odd expression on his face. 

"Just remembered," he said suddenly, "Got to go. See you later." and he turned on his heel and jogged off before Ron or Hermione could say a word. He wasn't sure how he felt about the way Ron and Hermione were beginning to feel toward one another. One thing was sure, however, he just didn't feel like being present when they finally worked it out. 

When Harry stepped back into the Entrance Hall he was greeted by the sound of Alastor Moody's uneven gait on the stair. Step Clump. Step Clump. Step Clump. The sound of his wooden leg echoed around the empty Hall. Harry had been avoiding Moody outside of class and would rather have ducked away. It was too late, Moody had seen him. Harry couldn't read the expression on his grizzled and scarred face as Moody hailed him. 

"Potter. Can I have a word?" 

Harry stopped in his tracks and swallowed hard, "Certainly Professor Moody." _Just what I need right now,_ he thought. He stared at his shoes as he waited for Moody to clump his way down the remaining stairs. He was startled, therefore, to feel Moody's hand upon his shoulder. Before he could stop himself he flinched and was immediately sorry. He looked up quickly at Moody and mumbled an apology. 

"That's alright, Laddie," Moody growled, "Come on, share a cup of tea, will ye?" 

Harry nodded thinking, _not more tea,_ and followed Moody into the deserted Great Hall, sitting across from him at the nearest table. Before Harry could wonder about where they would get the tea, a house elf appeared bearing a great tray of tea. She set it on the table happily and squeaked, "May I be getting yourselves anything else Misters?" 

"No, thank you." Moody rumbled and the elf gave a bouncy little bow and left them. 

Moody poured Harry a cup in silence and filled his own cup from the ever present hip flask. Harry sipped the scalding tea, wondering what Moody had to say to him. 

"Laddie," Moody started after a long sip from his cup, "I think it's time you and I had chat about last year." 

_Of course_, Harry thought,_ I suppose it's better to just go on and talk about it._ But he didn't look forward to it, there was too much bound up in it for him. He had trusted and admired the Moody imposter. He knew that what he trusted and admired was, in fact, the imposter doing a very good impersonation of the real thing, but when the imposter betrayed him... 

"Aye, I can see the trouble o' it in your face." Moody sighed, "And I thought it best I clear the air. Laddie, don't think I can't understand how difficult this must be for ye. It's a strange situation to be sure." 

Harry found himself nodding in agreement, but unable to look Moody square in the eye, real or magical, either one. 

"I wanted to let you know that I dinnae fault ye nor do I expect anything of ye. I may be my own self, but from where you're sitting I look like someone who betrayed ye and tried to kill ye and a body doesn't get past that easily." 

Harry felt a touch of relief. He hadn't expected this and it was good to know that Moody understood. "Thanks," He said gratefully. Then, on a whim added, "I don't mean to, you know. It's just-" 

Moody said nothing but when Harry looked up he was nodding. Finally, he said, "Well, Laddie I have a great deal to do and your Saturday afternoon is slipping away. I don't expect you fancied spending it sitting sipping tea with a teacher, eh?" 

Harry felt himself grinning as he stood up. "Ah, no sir, but thank you sir." 

With that, Harry left Moody. That hadn't been as bad as he had thought. Maybe it was a good sign. In any case he made his way quickly to Gryffindor Tower, hoping he wouldn't run into any more teachers before he got there.   
  



	12. twelve: Remus Lupin

  
  


CHAPTER TWELVE: Remus Lupin  
  
Black tossed the newspaper aside with a little more energy than was strictly necessary. Remus Lupin looked up from the book he was reading and said, with his characteristic understatement, "No good news, Sirius?"

"Not good, nor bad, either. No news worth reading."

"Well, it is yesterday's paper. Perhaps the Sunday 'Prophet' will have something more to your liking," Lupin said mildly - swallowing a smile and dropping his face behind his book once again.

Right on cue, an owl flashed by the window and a soft "thud" was heard on the front step.

Sirius Black rose to go collect the paper saying darkly, "You're entirely too optimistic Remus."

Lupin absently noted the sound of the front door's squeaky hinges as he returned his attention to his book. His attention did not stay there long, however.

A loud oath filled the front hall and was followed by the sound of the door slamming. Alarmed, Lupin put his book aside and stood to face his friend.

"What?" he said tensely.

Sirius shook his head darkly and merely handed Lupin the paper.

AZKABAN PRISON BROKEN OPEN was the headline that greeted Lupin's horrified eyes. "No." Lupin breathed. Then, as the headline sunk in he, too swore.

**AZKABAN PRISON BROKEN OPEN  
**

** Azkaban, the notorious Wizard Prison has been unguarded since as early as Friday, the Daily Prophet can exclusively report. The Dementors who have long guarded the island prison left Azkaban sometime Friday night or Saturday morning, taking some of You-Know-Who's most infamous supporters with them. The Dementors left dozens of broken, mentally unstable prisoners behind.**

** "We have no real information about what actually happened," Corneilus Fudge, the Minister of Magic stated late Saturday, "So rumor-mongering and panic are a bit premature. Until we ascertain what occurred and why, we suggest the magical community rely on reason and not rumor." Fudge may have been referring to the rumors, widespread since last June, that You-Know-Who has in fact been restored to his body and called his faithful Death Eaters back into his service.**

** "The Disappearance of the Dementors without notice and with prisoners like the LeStranges certainly does tend to support the rumors," Said a member of the Dark Arts Defense League who asked to remain anonymous. "This news is grave and disturbing. While panic may be premature, caution certainly is not."**  
  


"What now?" Lupin asked putting the paper down with a sigh.

"We wait to hear what Dumbledore wants us to do next."

"Ah, indeed." Lupin said moving to gaze out the window. Black heard him say something but couldn't quite make it out.

"Come again, Remus."

Lupin turned with a sigh, "I didn't know I was speaking aloud. I just said 'The LeStranges'. I'm thinking about a student I had at Hogwarts. This news will hit him doubly hard, I fear."

"The Longbottom's boy?" Sirius asked

"Yes. I didn't think you knew about that. It happened after you were imprisoned."

"I've studied up a bit since my escape." Black said dryly. "The Longbottom boy-"

"Neville." Lupin supplied.

"He's about Harry's age isn't he?"

"Yes, he and Harry are in the same year, the same house in fact."

Sirius shook his head and made an indistinct noise. 

"What?" Lupin asked.

"I'm thinking that waiting for word from Dumbledore is sensible but impossible."

"I agree wholeheartedly," Lupin said with a glint in his eye, " Let's go."


	13. thirteen: Hermione & Ron

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Hermione   
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Hermione & Ron 

Hermione looked up eagerly as the post owls flooded the air of the Great Hall at Sunday Breakfast. She was most anxious to read today's edition of "The Daily Prophet." Truth be told, however, she hadn't seen any real news in it since last June. But still... As a brown owl swooped toward her with a newspaper clutched in it's talons, Hermione held out both her hands, palm up. With the ease of practice, the Owl dropped the paper neatly into her hands and flew off. 

Hermione unrolled the paper and nearly spit out her oatmeal. At the same moment gasps of shock and fear broke out all over the hall. "What is it?" Ron said anxiously. Hermione handed him the paper silently. 

"Crimeny," Ron breathed, "I guess I expected it but-" 

"You expected what?" asked Harry as he joined them at the table casting a puzzled look all around the Hall. "What is going on around here?" 

Ron turned the paper toward Harry so he could read the banner headline. Hermione watched Harry a bit anxiously. Harry had not been himself all year and she was worried about him. She had no idea how he would take this. To her surprise he said, resignedly, "Well, at least it's in the open now. Fudge can't deny the truth much longer with this news out." 

"No, I guess he can't," Hermione offered, still looking closely at Harry. 

"I wonder how he'll explain keeping it under wraps all this time?" Ron asked with a note of contempt. 

"Dunno." said Harry absently. He was reading the brief article. "Huh. I can tell them when they left," he muttered to himself. Then his stiffened just slightly and made a face. Hermione noticed him steal a quick glance at Neville who had not spoken a word since he got his own copy of the paper right after Hermione. 

Harry handed the paper back to Hermione without a word. He was looking at Neville again. As Hermione followed his gaze she could see why. Neville had gone the shade of chalk. He was staring fixedly at the Azkaban article and his hands clenched the paper so tightly the newsprint seemed to be disintegrating under his grip. 

"Neville?" Harry asked cautiously. 

Neville did not respond and Harry began to make his way along the table to cross to Neville's side. 

"Neville? Neville? Are you alright? Neville!" Hermione said anxiously, "Neville, it's alright! We're perfectly safe here." 

Neville still didn't speak but he began to shake his head. Just then Harry put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not hungry, Neville, how about you? Come on, what do you say to a walk down to the Quidditch field?" With that Harry took one of Neville's arms and helped Neville stand. Hermione watched, confused, as Neville followed Harry stiffly out of the Hall. 

Ron, too, was staring after them. "What was that about?" 

Hermione didn't answer, she was scanning the article intently. Suddenly, she stood up and gestured for Ron to follow. "Comeon!" 

"Where?" 

"The library!" 

"Well, of course, I should have guessed." 

Hermione turned impatiently, "Hurry!" 

Once they were in the Library, Ron sat down at a table and waited. Soon, Hermione had returned from the stacks with three thick volumes. She slapped one down in front of Ron (ignoring the reproving look from Madam Pince, the librarian). "Look up LeStrange in the index," she commanded as she began paging quickly through the back of the thicker of the remaining two volumes. 

It only took a moment to find "LeStrange" and turn to the first page indicated. 

LeStrange, Mordred and Pravia: Mr. & Mrs. LeStrange were perhaps two of the most notorious Death Eaters under the service of Lord Voldemort. They are currently serving a life term in Azkaban for using the unforgivable Cruciatus Curse after The Dark Lord's fall. They were attempting to force an Auror, Frank Longbottom and his wife, Muriel, into revealing information they were (incorrectly) believed to possess concerning the fallen Dark Lord's whereabouts. The Longbottoms were driven insane by the torture and the unrepentant LeStranges caught and sent to Azkaban. 

As she finished the paragraph Hermione heard Ron let out his breath. She looked up to see him staring, thunderstruck at her with his finger on what was doubtless a similar passage in his own book. 

"You don't think- They wouldn't be Neville's?" Ron asked. 

"I think so." Hermione replied grimly, "It explains a lot, don't you think? Neville's reaction last year to the Cruciatus Curse in Dark Arts; being raised by his Grandmother; his reaction this morning... I think Harry already knows, too." 

"I think you're right, but what do we do?" 

"I'm not sure. Maybe we should just wait until they come back and see how they both are." 

"I suppose." Ron said shutting his book and pushing it away with distaste. "Lets turn these back in, shall we?" Reluctantly, Hermione nodded her head in agreement and followed Ron. 

There was no sign of Harry and Neville by lunchtime and Hermione and Ron were beginning to feel a bit uneasy. 

"Maybe we should just take a turn around the grounds and have a look for them?" Ron suggested and Hermione readily agreed, leading the way out of the Great Hall Neither Hermione nor Ron was feeling much better an hour later when a thorough search of the grounds produced no sign of either Harry or Neville. 

"Maybe we're just being paranoid," Hermione said, sounding unconvinced, "You know, with everything that's happened. They're probably somewhere in the castle." 

"It would take forever to search it, Hermione. What if, after all that time, they're not in it?" 

"Should we tell someone now?" 

Ron didn't look too enthusiastic about that idea. "I dunno' we could wind up getting them in trouble. If only we could be sure- Wait!" he cried brightening. "The Marauder's Map!" 

"You know where Harry keeps it?" 

"Comeon!" Ron said sprinting up the stone steps toward Gryffindor Tower. 

Hermione waited anxiously in the common room while Ron ran up for the map. Time passed slowly as she waited, fighting the urge to go up to the boy's dorm in spite of the rules. Just when she had convinced herself that a Prefect with good reason could probably go, Ron appeared walking slowly down the stairs looking at the map, crestfallen. Hermione grabbed him and pulled him into a corner. 

"Where are they?" she hissed. 

Ron's face was pale as he looked up at her blankly, "They're not on the map." 

"They've got to be!" Hermione said, grabbing the map and searching it intently. Ron sat down heavily while Hermione's eyes raked every inch of the map - twice. 

"I don't believe it." Hemione breathed, "Ron, we've got to tell someone!" 

Ron looked glum, "I know, but what if they're in Hogsmeade? We'd be getting them in an awful lot of trouble." 

Hermione was torn. Her head told her that, under the circumstances, they couldn't take the chance of NOT telling someone. But she had latched onto the idea of Harry trying to cheer up Neville by sneaking him into Hogsmeade for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. The more she thought of it, the more she liked the idea... 

She felt paralyzed by indecision and, looking at Ron, she could see he was dealing with a similar struggle. The portrait hole opened and, instinctively, Ron whipped out his wand and touched the parchment hissing "mischief managed." The map went blank as Ginny climbed through the portrait hole. She took one look at her brother and Hermione and made straight for them. 

"What's wrong?" 

Ron and Hermione looked at her, unable to respond. 

"It's not the Azkaban news is it?" 

Hermione shook her head and tried to think what she should say but, before she could marshal her thoughts, Ron had jumped up and moved to the nearest table grabbing parchment and quill and scribbling madly. Both Hermione and Ginny looked at him in confusion as he folded it in thirds and in thirds once more. He tipped a burning candle to form a puddle of wax over the fold in the center of the square of parchment he had made. 

"Ginny," He said looking at his younger sister intently, "Can we trust you?" 

"Of course you can, idiot." 

Ron ignored the insult and continued, pressing the parchment into Ginny's hand, "If Hermione and I aren't back in two hours can you find a professor and give this to them?" 

Ginny looked alarmed, "Well, yes, but-" 

"There's no time, Ginny, just swear you'll wait two hours and then do it if you don't see or hear from us." 

"I swear, Ron, but can't I-" 

Ron did not reply he grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her after him through the portrait hole. Ginny was left to gawp after them in disbelief. She looked at the clock and back at the parchment whispering "don't make me regret promising, don't you dare." 

"What's going on Ron?" Hermione asked as they raced toward the front entrance. 

"We're going to check Hogsmeade for Harry and Neville. If they're there we should easily be able to get back within two hours. If we don't, the note explains what's going on." 

Hermione bit her lip, she had to admit this was a good compromise to their dilemma but she still wasn't sure they shouldn't hurry to a teacher right now and damn the consequences. 

"Hurry!" she said picking up the pace.

******

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	14. fourteen: Harry and Neville

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Harry and Neville   


  
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Harry and Neville 

Harry had guided the stunned Neville firmly out of the castle and began walking with him toward the Quidditch pitch trying to think how to tell Neville that he knew about his parents. As they walked, Neville seemed to come out of his shock, but his fists remained balled so tightly the skin on his fingers was bone white. Harry didn't know why, exactly, but this alarmed him. Perhaps he ought to just dive in. 

"Neville," he began cautiously, "Are you alright? No, I'm sorry that's a dumb question, of course you're not. You can't be, can you? -finding out that the people who did what they did to your parents have escaped..." 

Neville whirled, his face white, "You know?" 

Harry nodded glumly. "I'm sorry. It must be awful." 

Neville snorted derisively and Harry started. He had never seen Neville like this. 

"Yes, Harry, it is awful. And it's their fault," he said, his eyes narrowing at the paper still gripped in one fist. His strides grew longer and faster taking him past the field and toward the forest. 

"But there isn't really anything you can do about it, is there?" Harry asked jogging to keep up. 

"I don't know about that, Harry." 

"Neville, you can't be serious!" 

"Why not, Harry? You would." 

"No, Neville," Harry said quietly, "I would have, before. I know better now." 

Neville said nothing. 

"Besides, what would you do, exactly? It's not as if you know where they are or anything." 

"You haven't really thought about it, have you, Harry?" Neville said harshly, turning to face him. 

Harry was bewildered and was about to tell Neville so when he spotted an unpleasantly familiar trio walking toward them. Malfoy and his gorilla-ish henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry braced himself for a confrontation. 

"Well, if it isn't Potty and The Longbottom." Malfoy said, his voice dripping contempt. As he saw the paper clutched in Neville's hand a smile curled his lips, "Having a good read, Longbottom? Just awful news, just awful. We're broken up about it, aren't we boys?" Crabbe and Goyle sniggered and glanced back over their shoulders at the forest, sniggering harder. 

"Shut it, Malfoy." Harry said threateningly. 

"What? Are you and little Longbottom going to make me?" 

Harry was thinking, that with Neville in his current mood, they might when Malfoy tossed his head and began to move along. "Enjoy your walk boys and do stay out of the Forest." He said dryly and moved on toward the castle. 

Harry shook his head fighting the urge to do something foolish. Neville looked back after them with his eyes narrowed, then turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction toward the forest. Harry jogged a few steps to catch up, he didn't like the idea of leaving Neville alone in this strange mood. He was just going to suggest to Neville that they turn and head toward Hagrid's cabin when, to his astonishment, Neville walked into the woods. 

"Neville!" he called jogging to catch up again, "Have you gone mental? You've been in here. You know why it's forbidden!" 

"Harry, I don't really care right now. If you'd like to go back feel free." 

_Who are you and what have you done with Neville Longbottom?_ Harry thought. 

At Neville's pace they had already come a dangerous distance into the woods very quickly with no signs of stopping. Right now Harry didn't have much faith in Neville's judgement. He'd have to do something. He grabbed Neville's arm and pulled hard to stop his progress. 

"Neville, enough! I know you're angry but this is foolish. We're going back!" Neville had whirled as Harry grabbed him and was now scowling up at him. As Harry looked at him, willing him to give in, Neville's expression changed and he got a very odd look on his face. 

Harry had a very unpleasant prickling sensation on the back of his neck and he straightened up slowly. Someone was behind him. Before he could turn, however, an unfamiliar voice spoke. 

"Not just yet, I think. Neville, is it? And who would your little friend be, Mr. Longbottom?" 

Harry turned to face the very haggard, very cold face of a man he did not know. The man looked closely at Harry and his face moved into a hideous smile. 

"Ah, see how fortune smiles upon us in these latter days, my darling. I believe we are standing in the presence of the famous Harry Potter." 

He was speaking over Harry's shoulder. Harry glanced back to see that a hard-faced woman had moved behind to flank them. The faces looked familiar but Harry did not know who they were. 

"You have the advantage of me." Harry said testily. 

It was Neville's turn to speak his voice was odd as he said, "The LeStranges." 

_Of course!_ Harry had seen them, much younger, in Dumbledore's pensieve the year before. As he looked into the cruel face before him Harry realized that he and Neville were in a great deal of trouble. Somehow, Harry felt it would be better to not show his fear. 

"I wish I could say it is a pleasure meeting you," he sneered in his best imitation of Draco Malfoy. 

"Tut, Tut, Mr. Potter, such rudeness! Hasn't the Bumble-bore taught you better? Ah, well, no matter. It is a pleasure to meet _you_ Mr. Potter. We've waited quite some time to meet you. In fact, we've undertaken an arduous journey to do just that, haven't we my sweet? You are so important to us, Harry Potter," LeStrange said, leaning so close into Harry's face he could smell his foul breath, "that we came to see you even before returning to our Lord." 

Harry repressed a shudder when Mrs. LeStrange spoke from behind him, her breath fetid on his neck, "We thought we'd pick you up and bring you along as a little gift." 

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Harry said hotly. 

"No? Oh Harry, I'm so very disappointed to hear that," Mr. LeStrange said silkily. "What _CAN_ I do to persuade you?" He drew out his wand and, as he did so, Harry felt himself being bound from behind, no doubt by Mrs. LeStrange's wand. Harry looked over to Neville and saw with a thrill of foreboding that he had not been tied. He still stood straight, looking defiantly at Mr. LeStrange. _Good for you, Neville, just stay strong_, Harry thought. 

In the next moment LeStrange had cried "Crucio!" and Neville was writhing on the ground in agony so great he could not even cry out. Harry winced and turned his head to block out the sight, but he felt Mrs. LeStrange's hands forcing his head to turn back. He screwed his eyes shut and Mr. LeStrange laughed, the same kind of cold, mirthless laugh as Voldemort. 

Then Neville was whimpering and Harry opened his eyes to see him curled on the ground, breathing hard, no longer under the influence of the Cruciatus Curse. 

"Your friend didn't enjoy that, did he Harry Potter? He can tell you that I am prepared to do that do him again and again as often as it takes... his parents would tell you it is not pleasant, if only they could." 

"What do you want me to do?" Harry said sourly. 

"Ah, that's more like it. Now, see, that's not too hard is it? It really is so much better when you cooperate." Harry glared but said nothing. 

"Well, well, Mr. Potter, your appearance here was an unexpected gift, we didn't have much time to prepare for your arrival, although it was certainly considerate of you to save us the trouble of coming to find you. Still, since we cannot apparate off the grounds of this wretched school and as it is still daylight I'm afraid we'll just have to bide our time." With that LeStrange waved his wand lazily and Harry felt something close tightly across his mouth. 

Mrs. LeStrange stepped over Neville and stepped to her husband's side. 

"Well done, darling, well done. Still, I fear the boy will be missed. How long will it be before those wretched sycophants in Dumbledore's school are out looking for him? We need to conceal ourselves more carefully until nightfall." 

"Well thought, dear. And what did you have in mind?" 

"As it happens there is a convenient little tunnel under a tree just yards away from the edge of the forest. It leads to a lovely little boarded up hovel on the edge of the town." 

"Excellent. Lead on, Lead on!" 

Harry felt himself being roughly dragged back up the path toward the edge of the woods. From the noise behind him he guessed Neville was being dragged as well. _This is good,_ he told himself, _Someone is bound to see us. We can't all get into the tunnel under the Whomping Willow without anyone noticing._ But he was wrong. Harry struggled to avoid being shoved in the tunnel, to attract some attention, but to no avail. No one noticed them being forced into the tunnel any more than they noticed the breeze ruffling the pages of the paper Neville had dropped on the forest floor.

  
  


The next thing Harry knew he was waking up on a dusty floor in the Shrieking Shack with a screaming headache. He turned his head on the rough floor and saw Neville lying a short distance away, his eyes rolled back in his head. Harry cringed closing his eyes against the sight. But he forced himself to open them again and look more closely. _Yes!_ He could see Neville's chest rising and falling. He wasn't dead. But he would be soon - and so would Harry - if he didn't think of something. 

Harry heard footsteps coming into the room followed by Mrs. LeStrange's voice. "As I suspected, no fireplaces for Floo in this wretched hut. We'll have to wait, since we've discovered we can't apparate with him." 

_They must have tried after getting here_, Harry thought. 

"Well, we waited for over a decade, my dear, what are a few hours more?" LeStrange's voice came from behind him. Harry twisted, but couldn't see him. 

"Besides," He continued coldly, "We have young Mr. Longbottom for entertainment should we get bored." 

Harry shuddered and willed his mind to remain calm. He needed to think, his mind was the only weapon he had right now. Even if he had his wand, which he did not, he certainly couldn't reach it at the moment. Neville wasn't bound, but he was unconscious at best and Harry feared he was badly hurt. Still, Neville was wearing his robes, so he might have his wand. If Neville woke up, he might be their best chance. He must keep watching for even a small sign that Neville was awakening. 

While he watched and waited Harry tried to reason out some other options, and it didn't look good. He and Neville had left at breakfast to "go for a walk". It was Sunday, so they weren't due anywhere they would be missed. The first time their absence would be a problem was class in the morning... and that would be much too late. 

He didn't know how long it would take Ron and Hermione to notice he and Neville hadn't turned back up. He hoped it would be at lunch, but realistically he wasn't sure it would occur to them there was a problem if they didn't see them then. It was probably more likely that his and Neville's non-appearance at dinner would be noticed by Ron and Hermione. How long would it take them to go to a teacher? Harry winced at this thought. He, Ron, and Hermione didn't have a very good track record of going to teachers when there might be a problem. By the time they did tell a teacher it may well have been dark for quite some time... and probably too late. 

Harry began to run through magical solutions in his head. He knew that some skilled witches and wizards could work simple spells with just the incantation - no wand. He also knew that under stress, fear, and anxiety some witches and wizards wound up doing magic by accident without even the incantation._ I'm certainly under extreme stress_, Harry thought grimly. That might be enough to give an incantation enough power to undo the ropes binding him. The question was, which incantation would do it? He needed to narrow down his options, he didn't expect he could say too many incantations (even from behind the tape over his mouth) without the LeStranges noticing. He also needed to think through what he would do once he was free. He wouldn't have much time. He could go to Neville and grab his wand... if he had one. No, he would need to disarm the LeStranges and use their wands against them. Now he had to figure out how to get untied. 


	15. fifteen: Ron & Hermione

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Hermione & Ron 

* * *

  
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Hermione & Ron 

Ron and Hermione were flushed and sweating when they ran into Hogsmeade. Both were clutching their sides but neither let up the pace. 

"The Three Broomsticks." Hermione said leading the way. They burst in to find the tavern empty save for a hag sipping from a smoking goblet in the corner. Hermione rushed over to the bar to talk to Madam Rosemerta, the owner. 

"Please, Ma'am, have any students been in here today?" 

Rosemerta knit her brows at Hermione. "No, this isn't a Hogsmeade weekend, it's been quiet... but what are you doing-" 

Hermione and Ron didn't let her finish the question. They were out of the Three Broomsticks like a shot and across to Honeydukes which was closed, then to Zonkos - also closed. Methodically they rushed to each shop and quickly searched the ones that were open. In each place they were told no students had been seen. Finally they both stood breathing hard and feeling a little panicky at the end of the main street. 

"Ron, we've got to get back up to Hogwarts as quickly as possible and tell someone," Hermione said urgently. Ron, however, did not respond. He was staring over Hermione's shoulder. She turned. There was nothing behind her but the boarded up Shrieking Shack. Suddenly, she understood what Ron was thinking. 

"Why would they go in there?" she said a little desperately... ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. 

"If they're in there - they didn't go on their own... and they'd be in trouble," he said evenly. 

"Ron, you don't have any reason to believe they're in there. Besides, we've wasted enough time already. We've got to go tell someone!" 

"Hermione, The Shack is the only place they could be, it's the only place we haven't searched. And if they're in there they are in trouble, we've already wasted too much time! You can go back but I'm going in." Ron said, resolute. 

"Not alone, you're not." Hermione said. 

Unfortunately, the shack was more than merely boarded up. Even Hermione's best charms could not move the boards over the windows and doors. 

"There's another way in." Ron said grimly, "let's move!" 

Hermione knew what he meant, there was a tunnel to the Shrieking Shack under the violent Whomping Willow on the school grounds. She sprinted to catch up with Ron. 

"Hagrid's cabin is close, let's go there first, it won't take long!" she pleaded. 

"Hermione, I can't take the time. But you go. Go straight there and then catch up with me." 

"Ron I can't leave you alone-" 

"No, you're right, Hermione. Just hurry!" 

Hermione peeled off sprinting with an energy she didn't know she had. If she could keep up her speed Ron wouldn't be far ahead of her in the tunnel. She skidded to a stop in front of Hagrid's cabin, pounded on the door, and burst through. Empty. Only a sleepy Fang raising his head from the bed. Hermione whirled around to run back out and ran right into Isabel Clay. 

Hermione was knocked off her feet and Clay rushed to help her up, an alarmed look on her face. 

"Hermione, what's wrong?" 

Hermione struggled to pull away from Isabel's grip. There was no time, Ron was alone. 

Isabel didn't let go, but instead gave Hermione a little shake. 

"Talk to me! What's wrong? 

"Harry and Neville - gone - not here, not Hogsmeade. Ron's gone to look in the shrieking shack but he's alone! I've got to hurry!" 

"Hermione, we need to get some help." 

"No time, I can't wait, I'm going!" Hermione said pulling herself free. Isabel's hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist. Isabel absently chewed her lower lip as she looked at her, obviously torn. Hermione imagined she wanted to go for help but was reluctant to leave her. Finally, Isabel released Hermione's wrist. 

"You're not going alone. Show me." Isabel said sharply. Hermione tore off, with Isabel at her heels. 

********

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	16. sixteen: Isabel

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Isabel   


* * *

  
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Isabel 

Isabel pelted off after Hermione hoping she had made the right decision, and knowing she could never have left Hermione on her own. She hardly noticed where they were going until Hermione skidded to a stop just short of the whipping, punching branches of the Whomping Willow. Hermione looked around quickly and pounced on a long stick. She began prodding the trunk with the stick until she hit a knot and the tree became as still as a statue. 

Isabel looked at it in surprise. 

"Hurry, it won't stay that way long!" Hermione urged, moving to the base of the tree and launching herself into an opening between the massive roots. Isabel followed, hopping down after Hermione into a dark tunnel that smelled of damp earth. 

"Where are we?" Isabel asked. 

"It's a tunnel to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. Ron thinks Harry and Neville are there and he's gone on ahead to try and help them." Hermione said pulling Isabel along as she spoke. 

"Hermione, what if they're not there? We'll have wasted a great deal of time." 

"I know, but Ron is going in alone. Besides, we left a note with Ginny and she'll be taking it to a teacher any time now." 

Further conversation was difficult as they had to crouch and try to run at the same time. Isabel couldn't tell how long they were in the tunnel or how far they had gone when she noticed a faint gray light ahead. As they drew closer she could make out a figure standing against the wall of the tunnel several yards shy of an opening. As her eyes adjusted she was relieved to recognize Ron, who had a finger to his lips. 

Thank God! Isabel thought, Maybe I can get them both to turn around and get out of here so we can get some real help. 

Ron was pointing toward the opening and cupping his ear. Isabel realized he wanted them to listen and when she did, her heart sank. She could hear a high, cold voice speaking, muffled, on a floor above. Although she couldn't make out the words, she could tell it was clearly an adult voice, not Harry or Neville's. They couldn't turn back without seeing if Harry and Neville were here and if they were in trouble. She said a short prayer then looked to Ron. 

Ron was looking at her intently and she nodded, as did Hermione. Ron and Hermione took out their wands and they all crept silently forward. It was slow going for the three of them to move into the house, along the creaky floors and around the scattered debris, without making noise. When they were finally close to the stairs Isabel motioned to Ron and Hermione. She pointed at herself trying to indicate that she wanted them to wait while she went first. Both shook their heads vigorously. Finally, through much gesturing Isabel managed to communicate that someone should stay downstairs so they could run for help if there was trouble. Somehow they managed to agree without speaking that Hermione would stay at the bottom of the stairs. 

The stairs took even longer as both Isabel and Ron put their weight down as gradually as possible on each tread to avoid creaking. Every moment Isabel was braced for someone to come out of one of the doors at the top of the stairs and see them. Finally she was just shy of the top of the stairs and put out a hand to stop Ron. The door was open, they'd need to stay here and listen. 

For what seemed an eternity Isabel crouched there and heard no noise. She was just considering trying to peer around the corner of the doorframe when there was low moan. 

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom awakens," said the cold voice, "Dear, go see if you can encourage him a bit." There were footsteps and the thump of something hard, like a shoe, meeting something soft. A moaning gasp was heard almost immediately. Isabel felt her nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists. Then, before reason or sense could take hold, she was on her feet and storming into the room. Neville lay curled on the floor and Harry was bound and gagged a short distance from him. There were also a man and woman wearing startled expressions. They didn't wear them long. They were reaching into the front of their robes. When they came out with their wands Isabel was ready. 

As they "fired" Isabel ducked and rolled toward Harry. She crouched beside him her eyes on the enraged couple while her hand shot behind his back and fumbled to find the ropes tying his arms and try to loosen them. She had barely made contact with the ropes and yanked when the couple pointed and "fired" again. Isabel dove to avoid the incantations but she felt the force of them catch her below her rib cage and throw her backward into the hallway knocking the breath out of her. She tried to move and felt pain shoot through her ribs and arm even as she turned her head and mouthed at the stunned Ron and Hermione "Run!" 

Ron hesitated for a moment then he shoved his wand behind Isabel and ran down the stairs to Hermione. Isabel reached behind her with her good hand and quickly found the wand, tucking it into her waistband and pulling her shirt down to cover it. The male wizard advanced slowly upon her the whole time and Isabel held his eye hoping to conceal her actions. As he reached the threshold Isabel pushed herself up with her good arm, still holding his gaze and willing Ron and Hermione to hurry. 

Something of her thoughts must have been betrayed on her face, for the wizard suddenly flicked his eyes to the bottom of the stairs. Catching sight of Ron and Hermione heading for the tunnel entrance he uttered a cry of rage and pointed his wand beyond them. The whole house shuddered with the force of the spell he used to close the passage. Isabel could hear dull thuds and the sound of glass breaking from all around the house. Good, she thought, that ought to attract someone's attention. But then she remembered Hagrid talking about this house: "Most haunted house in Britain" "Violent spirits" "Even ghosts won't go near." With a sinking heart Isabel realized the explosion wouldn't bring help. 

The witch had rushed out into the hallway at the sound of the explosion. At the sight of Ron and Hermione she laughed and Isabel felt a chill to her bones. Isabel was gratified to note that Hermione had seen her hiding Ron's wand and had the presence of mind to hide her own. She appeared unarmed as she and Ron stumbled to their feet and faced the couple at the top of the stairs. Almost lazily the witch pointed her wand at the duo at the bottom of the stairs. 

"Do come and join us, won't you?" she said icily. Ron and Hermione looked at one another, then slowly mounted the stairs. Isabel watched their faces the whole time trying to will extra courage into them. When Hermione and Ron reached the landing the Witch kept her wand trained on them as the Wizard grabbed them roughly and threw them toward Harry on the floor. 

They both tried to keep their feet only to trip over Harry and slam into the wall behind him. As they struggled to sit up the Wizard pointed his wand at them and they found their hands and feet bound. With a smile of evil satisfaction, the Wizard reached down and slowly tore the tape away from Harry's mouth. It hurt, but Harry did not cry out. 

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, would these people be friends of yours?" 

Harry said nothing until the Wizard pointed his wand at Neville with an evil grin. 

"Fine," Harry spat, "I know them... the younger ones, anyway." 

The wizard was clucking his tongue. "How very unfortunate for them. Still, it does provide my wife and myself with something to pass the time." 

"Who ARE you?" Ron suddenly spat. 

The wizard whirled but, to Isabel's relief, did not point his wand at Ron. He looked thoughtful then said, "Can you not guess, young friend of Potter?" Ron said nothing. "Very well, then, I shall tell you. I am Mordred LeStrange and this is my lovely wife Pravia." Ron's eyes widened and Hermione looked grim. For her part Isabel was puzzled. That name obviously meant something to Ron, Hermione, and Harry, but she didn't know who these people were supposed to be. 

LeStrange glanced in her direction, apparently noting the look of confusion on her face. 

"Have you not heard of us? Well, I confess myself disappointed. I thought sure every witch and wizard in Britain knew the names of Lord Voldemort's most faithful servants!" Even this did not help Isabel, for she had only heard Voldemort referred to as "You-Know-Who" or "The Dark Lord." Her expression remained confused. As LeStrange looked at her more intently a look of bafflement began to spread across his face. 

"Can it be that you've never heard of our Lord Voldemort? How can this be? Unless..." Isabel saw comprehension dawn on his face as he moved closer. She felt her stomach contract but kept her head up, meeting his eye. 

"Darling, I think we've overestimated this woman. She is clever enough to try and avoid the end of our wands, but that is her only defense... She is a muggle. The best Dumbledore can do for his precious Potter is to send two children and a muggle!" He leaned down and grabbed Isabel by her broken arm pulling her into the room and flinging her alongside Ron and Harry with surprising force. Isabel struggled to remain conscious but felt herself succumbing to the white haze of pain. 

******

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	17. Ginny and Lupin

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Ginny & Lupin   
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Ginny & Lupin 

Ginny Weasley had a very bad feeling. She paced the common room rolling the parchment Ron had given her in her hands. Someone - probably Harry - was in trouble and, unless she was very much mistaken, her brother and Hermione had just rushed headlong into whatever it was to try and help. In the heat of the moment she had sworn to Ron that she would do nothing for two hours. Now she regretted it. Her better judgement told her that every minute that passed was a minute wasted. 

She looked down at the note. She had rolled it so much it now held the shape of a cylinder. The wax Ron had dripped on the flap had pulled away from the paper. Ginny looked at it for a moment, then flicked it away with her finger and unfolded the paper. She was headed out the portrait hole before she finished reading. As she climbed through she almost ran into a tall, thin figure. She looked up and started in surprise. 

"Professor Lupin! What are you, I mean- What are you doing here?" 

Professor Lupin looked at her sharply, concern in his face, "I'm here on a visit. I'd hoped to speak with Neville- Ginny? What's wrong?" 

Wordlessly Ginny handed Lupin the note. 

Lupin read it swiftly, his brows raising in alarm. 

He took Ginny's hand, gripping it hard, and put the note into it. 

"Ginny, listen carefully and do exactly as I say." Ginny nodded, wide-eyed, and Lupin continued, "Take this note and find Dumbledore as quickly as you can. Give it to him and tell him I've already set out to look for them." 

Ginny nodded, then darted around Lupin running up the corridor. 

Lupin hurried back down and out of the castle, flying down the stone steps running toward the woods. He crashed through them until he got to a pine glade where Sirius was on his feet, wand up, wary. 

"Remus, that was you? Why are- What's wrong?" 

Lupin quickly explained as Sirius let out an oath. 

"Neville and Harry are not in the castle or on the grounds," Lupin continued, "Ron and Hermione went to look for them in Hogsmeade... they should have been back by now." 

"Dammit! Why do those kids always insist on trying to handle things themselves?" 

"Probably because they're an awful lot like us and they don't want to get one another in trouble," Lupin answered grimly. 

"That was a rhetorical question," Sirius growled. 

"Whatever. Listen, we need to get down to Hogsmeade, now." 

Sirius nodded, turned into a large black dog, and went trotting off through the woods, Lupin at his heels. 

Sirius was several yards ahead of Lupin in the woods when he skidded to a stop and began to sniff the ground frantically, finally letting out a sharp bark. Lupin picked up his pace and caught up to see Sirius sniffing a crumpled edition of today's daily prophet on the edge of a patch of ground that was strewn with leaves, twigs, and dirt thrown in all directions. Lupin felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. It was obvious there had been some sort of a struggle here. 

Sirius was moving now, following a trail of thrashed up dirt and leaves away from the clearing. Even before the trail led them to the edge of the woods both Sirius and Lupin had a good idea of where they would come out. Sure enough, the trail ended at the point of the forest that came closest to the Whomping Willow. 

"Someone was attacked and dragged here," Lupin said softly, "I think it's safe to assume they were taken to the willow." 

Indeed, Sirius was sniffing a path of gouged turf that lead from the woods straight toward the Willow. Whoever was taken there hadn't gone willingly. There was really no choice, they had to follow. 

Lupin ran toward the Whomping Willow with the dog at his heels. Sirius was faster and had passed Lupin and run ahead to the Willow. By the time Lupin got to the tree the dog had a long stick in this jaws. Lupin took it and prodded the tree trunk near the roots until there was a "click" and the violent thrashing of the branches was stilled. The dog ran and leapt into an opening at the base of the tree, with Lupin right behind him. 

When Lupin dropped to the dirt floor, Sirius Black, not the dog, was standing there. They immediately began moving down the passage as quickly as they could, not saying a word to one another. They were nearly at the end of the tunnel, which they knew opened into the Shrieking Shack, when the walls trembled with a muffled explosion and the tunnel ahead collapsed in upon itself.  


* * *

  



	18. eighteen: Harry

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Harry 

* * *

  


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Harry 

Harry twisted around as LeStrange flung Isabel Clay to the floor next to him. He saw the blood drain from her face as her eye roll back as she slumped limply down the wall beside him. He looked numbly at her, Ron, and Hermione and fought against the feeling of despair that threatened to drown the hope he had felt when he first realized they were not alone in the house. 

The more of us there are, the better our chances! He said emphatically to himself as he tried to work the ropes around his wrists loose surreptitiously. At least his mouth was free, if he could only think of an effective incantation! Harry saw Clay stir and instinctively tried to move toward her. To his surprise, LeStrange waved his hand in bored fashion. 

"Go ahead, Harry Potter, crawl over like a worm and check on your muggle friend. It hardly matters." 

Clay was blinking and scowling now. She moved slightly as if to straighten up, winced hard and stayed put, her breathing ragged. She nodded slightly at Harry as he pushed himself toward her and flicked her eyes slightly toward her left. Then she spoke up, 

"I think it matters a great deal, more than you can understand." 

LeStrange snorted, "Do not speak of that which you cannot understand, Muggle." 

"Oh, I understand, I understand far better than you." 

LeStrange pulled out his wand but Mrs. LeStrange spoke up, "Wait, darling, I'd like to hear what the muggle thinks she understands. Do go on Muggle." 

Isabel winced hard again as Harry crashed into her left side. But she caught her breath and continued, "I understand your fatal flaw, I understand why you will always lose even if you win." she said her eyes flashing. Harry felt her good hand moving behind him, finding the knots tying his own hands. He turned his gaze toward the LeStranges, grateful this was hidden behind their backs. He willed his face to remain neutral at the same time he willed Isabel to hurry. It would be dark soon and he doubted the LeStranges would be nearly as interested in toying with them once they could leave... and Harry had a bad feeling about what they would do to his friends when they were through with them. 

"Oh, do tell," Mrs. LeStrange said her voice oozing false interest. 

"You call one another 'dear' and 'darling' but you have no idea what those terms mean. You are incapable of love, and you cannot understand it. Your lack of understanding will ultimately be your undoing. Love will triumph in the end and you will be left confused, and defeated." 

The LeStranges laughter was harsh, almost brittle, "Oh, please, go stitch that on a pillow," Mrs. LeStrange sneered. 

Isabel smiled slightly as she replied, "As I said, you cannot understand love and so you will never understand it's power." 

"Power?" Mordred LeStrange laughed. "You can't be serious, Muggle. Power? Love has no power. Love is weak, that is why it is so easily overcome! Love is what makes fools do our bidding to protect their so-called loved ones, even though they must know we will still kill them eventually. Love is a fine tool for manipulation, nothing more. And Power? Power has nothing to do with love." 

Harry felt the ropes fall away from his wrists as LeStrange said this, but he also felt Isabel squeeze his wrist very hard. He didn't know what she meant to communicate so he waited and watched for his chance. 

"Love may lose some of the battles, but it will win the war. History demonstrates it, and the Universe demands it. Those who have faith in it will always overcome." 

"Oh, please! Such drivel! Your notions are quaint, Muggle, but quite unrealistic. Love cannot help you now, neither can faith. They cannot even protect you, as you will soon see." 

Harry felt something being pushed into his hand. For a moment he could hardly believe it. Isabel had handed him a wand. As soon as she did, she raised her chin and said, 

"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." 

"Are all muggles as deluded as yourself?" LeStrange asked incredulously. 

"Well, I suppose you'd have to ask my friends. I suspect Harry and Hermione are ready to tell you." 

LeStrange scowled at Isabel in what appeared to be genuine confusion. Harry was confused for a moment, himself. Then he caught Hermione's eye. She was looking at him very intently and he realized what Isabel was saying. He was ready. He braced himself to act. 

Then Isabel yelled "Now!" 

Harry saw the beginnings of comprehension on LeStrange's face but Harry had already whipped the wand out and yelled "Expelliarmus!" Hermione had twisted sharply sideways and yelled "Expelliarmus!" as well. The LeStranges were propelled backward as their wands flew forward. Harry looked over at Hermione and saw her wand clasped between her tied hands behind her back. Quickly, he struggled to cover the LeStranges with his wand hand as he untied his feet with the other. 

The LeStranges appeared to be stunned but Harry didn't know how long they would stay that way. He needed to get their wands before they woke up. As he freed his legs and began to move toward the wands he saw Neville's hand move out from under his robes to grasp them. Harry reached out with his free arm to help pull Neville to a sitting position. 

"Can you cover them while I untie Ron and Hermione?" Neville was quite pale and his voice shook slightly as he answered, but his hands did not. 

"Count on it, Harry." 

As quickly as possible Harry scrambled over to Ron and Hermione and untied them. Hermione leapt up immediately and moved to the LeStranges. She pointed her wand at them and conjured several sets of ropes binding them nearly from head to foot. She then pointed her wand at them saying "Locomotor Mortis!" She turned back to the group with a look of satisfaction on her face. 

"You don't think the full body bind was overkill do you?" Ron asked, grinning 

"No, as a matter of fact I don't," Hermione said, then moved to help Ron and Harry prop Neville against the wall next to Isabel. 

"Where did you get this wand?" Harry asked Isabel. 

"It's Ron's. He did some very quick thinking and got it to me just before LeStrange blasted his and Hermione's escape route shut." 

"Seems Hermione did some fast thinking, too. Where did your wand come from?" Harry asked. 

"Same place Isabel's did, back of the waistband. That's what they get for underestimating us." Hermione said fiercely. 

Harry handed Ron his wand and took one of the LeStranges' wands from Neville, who was looking intently at their still unconscious forms. 

"Neville?" he asked his eyes straying to Neville's fingers playing along the surface of the wand. 

"Why shouldn't I, Harry, why shouldn't I?" Neville asked still fingering the wand and looking daggers at the people who had tortured his parents into insanity. 

"Because you'll take their place in Azkaban, for one thing." 

"So? That hardly matters. Trust me, Harry, it would be worth it." 

Harry was at a loss. He knew that Neville was thinking of either the Cruciatus Curse or the Killing Curse... it hardly mattered which. Besides being illegal, it was just wrong. He knew that it would bring Neville down to the LeStranges' filthy level. Neville was above that, he was better than that. Somehow he couldn't find the words to tell Neville so. 

Hermione and Ron were listening and looking at Neville with wide eyes. They, too, it seemed were speechless. 

"You'll be just like them, then!" Harry finally said, "And you're better than that!" 

Neville didn't speak for some time. When he answered his voice was flat, "Don't worry, Harry. I'm not going to do it. I never was. I want to. I want to more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, but I won't." 

Silence filled the room for a moment until Hermione spoke up, "Harry, Ron, why don't you go downstairs and see if you can find a way out. I'll stay here with Neville and Isabel and... those two. Ron, when you get through go for some help, would you?" 

Harry looked at Ron who simply said, "Good idea" and walked out of the room. Harry said nothing, but followed. They were halfway down the stairs when they were thrown back by a blast at least as powerful as the one that had blocked the tunnel. Harry and Ron scrambled, coughing, to find their wands and their feet. As the dust cleared they found themselves pointing their wands at- 

"Sirius!" 

"Professor Lupin!" 

Both men looked pale and shaken, but enormously relieved as they scrambled over the rubble between them and the stairs. As they did so, Harry saw Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall, behind them. 

"Harry are you alright?" 

"Where are the others?" 

"What happened?" 

Harry couldn't tell who was asking what. "Upstairs." He said wearily. He felt Sirius easing him down to sit on a stair and saw Lupin doing the same for Ron as Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall moved quickly past them and up the stairs. 

He heard McGonagall gasp with surprise and Snape growl, "Mordred and Pravia LeStrange". Moments later Hermione appeared followed by McGonagall supporting Neville with both an arm and her wand. They were followed by Dumbledore doing the same for Isabel. Sirius and Lupin gave Harry and Ron a hand up and led the way back to the passage. Just before ducking in, Harry looked back up at the top of the stairs to see Snape emerge with a terrible scowl, levitating the still bound unconscious LeStranges ahead of him. 

Once they were all in the tunnel and moving toward Hogwarts Sirius dropped back and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, are you really alright?" He asked softly. 

"Yeah. I am." Harry said, and he realized that, in spite of everything, he meant it. 

When they emerged at the other end of the tunnel they were met by a pale, anxious Ginny who immediately flung herself at Ron, practically knocking him down with the force of her embrace. "I'd yell at you," she said darkly, "but I think Mom will make a better job of it." Ron blanched slightly, then laughed. "You're probably right" 

Sirius had squeezed Harry's shoulder and turned back into a dog just before emerging from the tunnel. He trotted off to the woods while Ginny was hugging Ron. Harry now stood alone and Lupin moved beside him, "I think you've got quite a story to tell, Harry."   


* * *

  



	19. nineteen: Harry

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Harry 

* * *

  


CHAPTER NINETEEN: Harry 

Madam Pomfrey immediately took Neville and Isabel in hand, instructing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to "stay put" until she had a chance to examine them. As she bent over Clay, Isabel spoke to her in urgent hushed tones pointing her toward Neville. Pomfrey frowned slightly but went to examine Neville. Isabel looked on with some concern. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another and then back toward the bed where Neville lay making no sound. Lupin's brows creased in a frown and he got up and walked to Pomfrey, speaking to her in hushed tones. She shook her head and then gestured toward a set of screens by the wall. Lupin set them up around Neville's bed. 

When he returned to sit next to Harry his expression was grave. 

"Neville's going to be alright, isn't he professor?" Ginny asked, alarmed. 

"I hope so, Ginny." Lupin said gently as the door opened to admit Dumbledore and McGonagall. Dumbledore took in the screens around Neville's bed then looked to Lupin who shook his head slightly. McGonagall took this in and paled. 

"Do you three feel up to telling us what happened?" Dumbledore said, turning serious eyes away from the screens surrounding Neville's bed. 

It took all three, but between Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the story was told, with some contributions from Ginny and Lupin. Ginny hung her head, looking away from her brother when she explained how she had opened his note and gone for help before the time she had promised. 

"I'm sorry, Ron." she said softly. 

"For what?" 

"I broke my promise, I swore." 

"Ginny, please don't apologize for having more brains that your brother... at least sometimes." Ron said with a wry grin. He then picked up the story. 

When they were done there was some silence. Finally Harry spoke, looking at Dumbledore. 

"Sir, do you believe in what Madam Clay said?" 

"Yes, I do, Harry." he said gravely, "We often speak of one thing in many ways but what we call 'ancient magic' and 'mysterious' is much the same as that which Madam Clay calls 'faith' and 'God'. You saw that with your own eyes today, Madam Clay is not a witch, yet she possessed a power that was able to contend with some very powerful dark magic." 

"In fact," he continued fixing Harry with a penetrating stare, "I suspect if you think about it, the answers to many questions... both spoken and unspoken... may be found in today's events." 

Soon the door of the hospital wing banged open yet again. This time to admit an very anxious Hagrid. 

"I jus' heard! He exclaimed to no one in particular, then focused on Dumbledore, "Is everyone alrigh'?" 

Dumbledore reached up and put a hand on Hagrid's massive shoulder, "As you can see, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter are all well. Madam Pomfrey is attending to Mr. Longbottom, and Madam Clay is a bit the worse for wear but I believe will be just fine." 

At the words "Madam Clay" Hagrid looked quickly around and caught sight of Isabel. He rushed over and sat next to her bed, his massive back blocking her from view. Harry's attention, was distracted from this by Snape coming through the door. 

"Headmaster, the Magical Law Enforcement Squad has arrived and taken matters in hand." Snape said, taking a quick look around the room. 

"Thank you, Severus." Dumbledore said mildly. With this Snape nodded curtly and left. 

"I suppose I should go down," Dumbledore said without complaint but also without enthusiasm. With that he was gone and the remaining group sat in silence. 

After a time Madam Pomfrey routed Hagrid from Isabel's bedside, sending him out to join the others. With a stern look at the waiting group she put a screen beside Isabel's bed. She could be heard moving about behind it and speaking in hushed tones. After a time she emerged holding an empty goblet. One by one she curtly called Harry, Ron, and Hermione to her office for a quick exam. She walked back out with Hermione and insisted that they and Ginny go back to their dorm and to bed. 

McGonagall agreed, rising to escort them back to Gryffindor tower personally. No one was eager to leave not knowing Neville's condition, but they were all too exhausted to object. Silently they followed McGonagall to Gryffindor. They were met in the common room by Fred and George who were unusually pale, each of their many freckles standing out in stark contrast to their bloodless faces. McGonagall had to speak to them rather more sharply than she might have liked to insist that Ron, Hermione, and Harry were alright and that everyone needed to go to bed. 

Harry laid for a long time staring up into the darkness and going over the events of the day in his mind. The room seemed very quiet without Neville's usual snores. Harry thought about him sitting up pointing the LeStranges' own wands at them. "...I want to more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, but I won't" Harry wasn't sure he could have said the same in Neville's place. 

How hard it must have been to not strike out in revenge, but Neville hadn't. As he thought about this Harry realized that this was what Isabel had been talking about when she spoke of losing battles but winning the war. No matter what happened to Neville, he had won in a way that was more profound than any victory Voldemort or his followers could ever achieve. As he lay there Harry found himself saying a silent prayer to the ancient magic or to Isabel's 'God" or whatever it was that was out there. He prayed that Neville would be alright. He prayed that they would all be alright. And Harry knew, for the first time in a long time, that no matter what happened, he would be.  


* * *

  



	20. twenty: Isabel once more

CHAPTER TWENTY: Isabel once more. CHAPTER TWENTY: Isabel once more. 

Isabel woke as a bright beam of sunlight crept up her bed and eventually shone in her eyes. Instinctively, she threw her arm across her closed eyes to block out the invading light. 

"Ow!" was the first thing she said that morning as the movement jarred her sore ribs. Very slowly she took her good arm off her eyes and opened them. After giving them a moment to adjust she looked down at her other arm. It looked fine, normal. Cautiously, she wiggled her fingers. To her great relief they seemed to work fine. She lifted her arm and moved it, flexing the muscles. It was definitely very sore but that was all. Gingerly, she took a deep breath to test her ribs. They, too, were sore but fine. Isabel took another breath and let it out slowly. 

"Thank God," she murmured, and she wasn't talking about her mended bones. She closed her eyes again and tried not to see the scenes from the night before. She had been more terrified last night than ever before in her life. After years as a ward of the crown, she noted ruefully, that was saying something. She looked at the screen of curtains around the bed of the Longbottom boy and noted that they weren't out of the woods just yet. She winced at the memory of the sound of Neville being kicked hard... hard enough to damage his liver or spleen depending on where he was kicked. 

"Are you in pain, Isabel?" a concerned voice asked from the other side of her bed. 

Isabel started just slightly and turned her head to see Albus Dumbledore sitting in a chair beside her. 

"How long have you been there?" she asked 

"A short time... since just before you awoke. I thought it best to give you a few moments to awaken fully before engaging you in conversation. I must ask again, are you in pain?" 

"Why do you ask?" 

"You winced just now." 

"Well, I have to admit to a headache, but that isn't why I winced, Sir- ah, Albus." 

"Pain comes from many sources, including memories," Dumbledore said wisely rising from his chair and crossing out of sight across the ward. Isabel pulled herself up to sit against the headboard. She was moving her pillow when he returned moments later with a small goblet. 

"Drink this, it will help with your headache and, I imagine, some sore bones and muscles," Dumbledore said, handing it to her. 

"Thanks." Isabel said taking the goblet. She looked at it and sniffed it as well. It looked like grape juice and, although it didn't smell like grape juice, it didn't smell bad. She was distracted by a low chuckle from Dumbledore. 

"I once assured you that Poppy rarely produces potions that are foul-tasting and, I assure you, that one will not make me a liar." 

Isabel took a deep breath and drank. It was not at all unpleasant. It had a fruity taste but also an undertone of something... something she couldn't really describe. Almost as soon as she set the empty goblet on the bedside table, her headache began to fade, as did the faint throbbing in her ribs. 

"Thank you, not for the potion. Well, actually thank you for the potion, but thank you for coming to see me, I appreciate it." Isabel said. 

Dumbledore looked faintly surprised, but merely said, "You are welcome." 

"May I ask, how the students are this morning?" 

Dumbledore looked grave, but managed a faint smile as he began, "Harry, Ron, and Hermione are a bit bruised and a touch shaken, I imagine, but are all right. Unfortunately, these sorts of dangerous adventures are becoming almost routine for them." 

Isabel raised her eyebrow in question. 

"It is a long story, better told by them I imagine," He said by way of answer. 

"But what about Neville?" Isabel asked, looking at the screens again. 

"Poppy is hopeful, but his condition is quite grave. He sustained some serious internal injuries that went unattended for quite some time." 

"I know." Isabel said darkly. 

"I expect you do." 

"I'll never understand it, no matter how many times I see it," Isabel continued her voice a mixture of anger and confusion, "How can people do such things to one another? What possesses a person to harm a child?" 

"That is a very good question," Dumbledore sighed, "And you are not the first to ask it. Nor, I fear, the last. What do you think the answer is?" 

"I just don't know... It seems beyond my imagination. I understand good, but I do not understand evil." 

"Perhaps that is because evil defies understanding. It is not logical, it follows no rules." 

"No I don't suppose it does..." 

"But, from what I hear, you saw some extraordinary things in the face of evil last night." 

Isabel nodded silently, unable, for a moment to speak. "I wonder if that young man knows how extraordinary he is," she finally said softly, "I don't know if I could have resisted the urge to strike back at them were I in Neville's place." 

"I suspect you would have found the strength not to... That was, after all, what they say you spoke of to the LeStranges." 

Isabel snorted, "Right. As if the Lestrange's could understand. Still, my little lecture served its purpose." 

"Was it only to distract them, Isabel?" Dumbledore asked in a tone that implied he knew an answer she didn't. 

Isabel had to think for a few moments. Finally, she answered, "Well, no, I don't suppose. I guess I wanted to... well encourage the others with a show of defiance maybe?" 

"You didn't believe in what you were saying?" 

"Well, of course I did." Isabel said, trying to understand at what Dumbledore was getting, "The point is, the LeStranges did not believe it, they didn't understand it." 

"True," Dumbledore said sadly, "And it turned out to be their undoing. My question is if you believed they might actually listen." 

This question surprised Isabel. She HAD only been trying to distract the LeStranges. In the flurry of events last night she never even entertained the hope that she would be able to talk those monsters out of doing anything, let alone into listening, thinking, or feeling. Her rational mind never thought for a second that the content of her words would make a difference to the LeStranges. Still... suddenly she realized that there was a small part of her... 

"I suppose a part of us always hopes that what we believe to be true will make a difference," She admitted with a faint note of surprise. 

"It did. Not to the LeStranges, but it made a difference. Faith, I suppose, always does." Dumbledore said. "No matter what happens to Neville it is important that we all remember that. In a way, Neville's actions last night were a testament to his faith... his faith in essential goodness of doing the right thing. If Neville had not had faith that good would triumph in the end, there would have been no reason to refrain from cursing the LeStranges into oblivion - not just for what they did to him but what they did to his parents." 

"His parents?" 

"The LeStranges tortured his parents, driving them insane." 

"My God," Isabel breathed, "And yet he still..." 

"Quite extraordinary." 

They sat in silence for a few moments after Dumbledore said this, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, however, Dumbledore rose. 

"Well, I expect I'm monopolizing your time. You do have other visitors," He said, smiling at Isabel's look of surprise, "Hagrid, for one, has been camped out in the waiting area for well over an hour." 

Isabel smiled at this feeling a tiny flutter in the region of her stomach. Hagrid really was a sweet man: a gruff, prickly softie. No, you're being foolish, she told herself, the only sensible thing is to be his friend, that's all. 

As if he could hear her thoughts, Dumbledore said, "He likes you quite a lot, you know." 

To her dismay, Isabel could feel herself blushing, "Well, I like him too." 

"Indeed," Dumbledore said shrewdly as Isabel looked down at her hands feeling miserable. 

"The problem is," Dumbledore continued, "you are a bit old for him." 

Isabel looked up swiftly at this, "Er, ah, excuse me... too OLD?" 

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling merrily over his half-moon glasses, "Well, as a muggle you can be expected to live, what? Perhaps sixty or eighty more years?" 

"I suppose," Isabel said, more confused than ever. 

"Well, Hagrid has at least a hundred years ahead of him." 

"What?" 

"I myself am over one-hundred and fifty years of age," Dumbledore noted matter-of-factly, "the wizard life span is a bit longer than that of a muggle." 

"Oh." That was all Isabel could think to say. She didn't know what she was feeling now. 

"Another of life's great mysteries is why we want what we want and love who we love. The fact remains, however, that the heart wants what it wants. The rest is merely detail which, by the way, can be worked out." With that the venerable (very old, Isabel reminded herself) man turned and swept out of the ward. 

Isabel's mouth must still have been fixed in an "oh" for, the next thing she knew an unfamiliar voice was asking, "Are you alright?" 

Isabel looked up to see, not Hagrid, but a younger man with a great deal of gray in his brown hair and a rather concerned look on his face. He was one of the people who had been there last night, she remembered but she couldn't remember his name. 

"Ah, yes, I'm just fine, thank you. Mr, ah, Mr.?" 

"Lupin, Remus Lupin. Please just call me Remus. You are Isabel Clay, yes?" 

"Yes, just Isabel, though." 

He smiled warmly, showing lines a bit too deep for his young face, "I just stopped in to check on Neville. Madam Pomfrey has no news for us there, I'm afraid. But I also wanted to thank you." 

"Pardon?" 

"Neville, Ron, Harry, and Hermione are all former students of mine and Harry's parents were my best friends before they died. I wanted to thank you for what you did for them last night." 

"Oh. Well, I couldn't really do much except get a few broken bones. It was their quick thinking which really saved the situation. You should be proud of them." 

"I am. I'm also grateful to you. Thank you," with that he rose, took her hand, and shook it, "Well, I've cut in the queue, I'm afraid. You're got a friend who is anxious to see you... very anxious." Remus grinned just then, and turned to walk away. 

Isabel watched him go, her head still spinning with what Dumbledore had said. One hundred or so more years? 

"What did I say last night about love winning in the end?" she said aloud, just as Hagrid appeared in the doorway.   


* * *

  



	21. twenty one: at the last

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: Some Time Later. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: Some Time Later. 

Hagrid grinned as he waved from the carriage at Professor Hume Oddbody. He had come along to take Oddbody and his trunk to the Hogsmeade station so that he could take the carriage back to Hogwarts. He had also gone along because Oddbody had so over packed his trunk that he couldn't lift it by himself. 

The Winter Term would start on Monday morning but Oddbody would not be there. Oddbody was taking a sabbatical to go and "live among the muggles" a lifelong dream of his that, according to Isabel, was long overdue. Isabel was the reason he smiled to see Oddbody go. Dumbledore had asked her to fill in teaching Muggle Studies for the rest of the year while Oddbody was away. Dumbledore had been impressed with her conduct the night the LeStranges kidnapped Harry and Neville and seemed content to keep her around. 

From what Isabel said, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and especially Neville had conducted themselves in a way that full grown wizards could be proud of had they behaved the same. Hagrid was glad. Not a bit surprised, mind you, but glad to hear it. Certainly it had given Harry a boost. He had seemed anxious and uncertain before that night. While the events of that evening had hit him hard, Harry seemed to somehow have found his balance...Hagrid would dare say his confidence... again. The biggest evidence of this was the more relaxed attitude of Ron and Hermione toward Harry. Those two had been getting quite wound up about Harry's mood, Hagrid noted. 

All three were still grieving, mind you, but a new purpose seemed to blaze from each of their eyes when they spoke of what was happening in the wizarding world outside Hogwarts. They'll do Neville proud, just watch 'em, Hagrid thought fiercely. As he walked away from the carriage shed toward the castle for lunch. 

As he entered the castle he could hear familiar laughter coming from the Great Hall. 

"But I don't think it's funny at all!" he heard Hermione protesting amid the laughter. 

He turned in to see a red-faced Hermione sitting at the end of the nearly empty Great Hall with Harry, Ron, Isabel, and two other students who had stayed at Hogwarts over the term break. 

"It is, when she puts it like that!" Ron said, shaking with laughter. He laughed more, Hagrid suspected, at Hermione's disquiet than at whatever the topic was. 

The other two students... first years from Hufflepuff... looked curious. For her part Isabel could be seen shaking her head and holding her hand over her mouth in what Hagrid had come to recognize would be a fruitless attempt to not laugh. As he watched she finally put her head down on the book open before her and succumbed to a fit of giggles. Which made even the Hufflepuffs smile. Hermione looked more exasperated than ever, as Hagrid started toward the table. 

Harry, wreathed in grins, saw Hagrid coming and caught his eye. 

Hagrid raised his brows in an unspoken question as he drew closer. Isabel had sat back up and was holding her sides as she looked at Hermione's earnest face and tried to stop laughing. Harry held up a finger in a "wait a second" motion. He then closed the book in front of Isabel and held it up so Hagrid could read the cover: Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles by Hume Oddbody. 

Hagrid sighed. He still didn't get it. But, whatever it was, it was a good sign. He was glad they were laughing about it... most of them anyway. 

FINIS. 

***** 

Author's note: (just to tie up a few loose threads) 

As in life, the answer to the persistent question in this story is rather simple... even unremarkable. Isabel Clay IS a muggle. There were some hints she might have magic because there is a sense in which all of us possess some form of magic... certainly our wonderful ability to care about one another the way we do transcends logic and could be called magic. 

How/Why did she get through the barrier? The answer is in the story but may not be obvious. She got through because she had something Harry needed and that "ancient magic" knew that and gave her a little push. What was it that she had that Harry needed? Well, Dumbledore had a strong suspicion a while back. Something McGonagall said over cocoa helped him to crystallize the idea. 

What she had was faith. Her faith took the form of faith in God, but her faith finds expression in more ways than simply religious ones. (I am NOT trying to promote religion but I confess I was curious to see how it would work in Rowling's world.) When Isabel finds herself in the Shrieking Shack she finds herself facing two people with evil in their hearts and wands in their hands. As a muggle she is pretty much defenseless but she doesn't lose heart. This is faith made real and it is enough to make the crucial difference. 

This, and Neville's actions, are enough to help Harry to regain some faith in his ability to handle whatever comes his way and to renew his faith that the "good guys" will win in the end. 

I suppose we all need to have our faith in that renewed now and again. I wrote this story before September 11. Since then some of the things in the last few chapters have taken on a bit of a double meaning... but Isabel is right... Love will win in the end, even in the face of evil. 

Peace,  
HLB

P.S. Now that you're done, what did you think? I'd appreciate your review.


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